Murder is Academic
by RED5
Summary: The murder of two high profile academics lanches the gang into a web of intrigue and deception. STORY COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters of Steve Sloan, Mark Sloan, Jesse Travis, Amanda Bentley, Tannis Archer, Chief Masters, Ron Wagner, Susan Hilliard and CJ. belong to CBS and Viacom, they are just borrowed for the purposes of this story. Any other characters are the property of the author. The University in which the story is set is also a work of fiction. This story is written purely for pleasure with no profit involved  
  
1.1.1.1 Rating: PG  
  
Title: Murder is Academic  
  
Summary: The murders of two high profile academics launch the gang into a web of intrigue and deception. Set within a backdrop that incorporates both an Ivy League University and the ancient civilization of Egypt, our heroes must contend with ancient curses as well as the more modern threat of professional jealousy. It's Indianna Jones – Sloan style!  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at any kind of fan fiction, and the first time I have made any of my writing public. In writing I had two aims - firstly to produce an enjoyable story with a plot that will keep readers hooked, and secondly to stay as faithful as possible to the original premise of the show.  
  
What I like most about the show is the relationship between the four central characters. In this piece I have tried hard to recreate the dynamic between the four personalities which works so effectively on the screen. As such most of the action focuses upon the characters of Mark, Steve, Amanda and Jesse, although others also have an important role to play (particularly Tannis Archer who I think is a great character).  
  
Before the story begins I must make some apologies. Firstly, because I am English I have only had access to the series since November 2001. As such, many readers will have a much more extensive knowledge of Diagnosis Murder than I do – please excuse any mistakes! Additionally because British TV has tended to dip in and out of the various seasons it is hard to get to grips with the chronology. I have made no attempt to place this story in terms of episodes; rather I have used poetic licence. The story takes place some time after Steve was shot. Amanda has CJ and is in the early stages of a relationship with Ron and Jesse is just getting together with Susan. Finally, I've attempted to use American terminology, so again please excuse any mistakes!  
  
1.1.2 ENJOY!  
  
Chapter One  
  
Padding into the kitchen of his Malibu beach house in dressing gown and slippers Dr. Mark Sloan moved silently. He was thus able to observe his son unawares for a few moments. He didn't like what he saw. The droop of Steve's shoulders and the way his powerful frame was slumped in the chair presented a picture of weariness in the extreme.  
  
Elbows propped on the breakfast table in front of him Steve Sloan slowly massaged his temples trying to ease the pounding in his head. He felt the beginnings of a migraine, self-induced he knew by the lack of sleep and the eyestrain that always accompanied the reading of copious amounts of small print in the early hours of the morning.  
  
'Headache son?' Mark asked sympathetically  
  
'Uh huh' Steve confirmed opening his eyes and thankfully accepting the aspirins his father had characteristically produced. Dry swallowing the pills Steve smiled tiredly at his father's back as Mark turned to brew a fresh pot of coffee.  
  
'You want me to talk to Masters?' Mark asked 'You know he's pushing you pretty hard. As a doctor I'm not real happy about the kind of hours you've been pulling recently'.  
  
'Nice idea Dad' Steve sighed 'But somehow I don't think a man who never eats is likely to put sleep high on his list of priorities! He looked at Mark with a wry smile 'I guess it's what's expected on the task force'.  
  
'May be' Mark conceded 'But I really wish you'd get some rest'.  
  
Steve shrugged his shoulders 'You and Jesse pulled these kinds of hours when you were junior doctors. I'm sure my body will adjust eventually. Until then I'll just have to keep on drinking the coffee!' He held out his empty cup for Mark to fill, treating his father to his trademark lopsided grin.  
  
'Hmmph' Mark grunted filling Steve's cup. He knew how stubborn his son could be, particularly when it came to his work. Once Steve got involved with a case Mark knew that he would see it through no matter how he was feeling. Although he was physically fit and in great condition Steve was only human. Mark had, had enough close calls in the past to know that Steve was not as invincible as he outwardly appeared.  
  
Despite his son's age, Mark could never shrug off the feelings of fatherly over protectiveness. Even now his keen doctor's eye had noted his son's pale complexion, the dark shadows that lined his normally expressive blue eyes and the underlying tension in shoulders and jaw, none of which could be hidden from him by Steve's attempts at humour.  
  
A loud yawn from Steve snapped Mark out of his brief reverie. Stretching muscles stiff from too long spent sitting, Steve was obviously preparing to make a move.  
  
'You're not eating?' Mark observed in surprise.  
  
'No time' Steve explained, 'Masters expected me down at the station five minutes ago'.  
  
'Besides' he admitted with a frown' This headache's kinda taken the edge off my appetite'.  
  
'Okay now you've got me worried' Mark only half joked 'When you're off your food I know it's something serious.'  
  
'Funny!' Steve smirked picking up his jacket from the back of the chair. Draining his coffee he replaced the cup on the sideboard and smothering another yawn stooped to collect both car keys and case files from the kitchen table.  
  
'At least let me cook for you tonight' Mark coaxed, putting an affectionate hand on Steve's shoulder. 'Humour your father? It'll make me feel better if I know you've got some decent food inside you'.  
  
'Sure Dad' Steve grinned, a momentary sparkle back in his blue eyes 'If it makes you feel better how can I refuse!'  
  
Mark smiled, now that was more like it. 'Maybe I could invite Jesse and Amanda over too?' he suggested, looking at the stack of paper work in Steve's arms 'We could look at some of those files you've been going through. Some fresh eyes couldn't hurt you know'.  
  
This time it was Steve's turn to smile. He knew his father was itching to get involved in the case. Mark's passion for solving mysteries was as much a part of his personality as his fatherly over protectiveness. 'Hell' Steve thought, 'It's not just a passion it's a talent'. He often envied his father's ability to think both literally and laterally, to pick up on the seeming irrelevancies and piece them together to reach the correct conclusion.  
  
Time and time again it had been Mark who had latched on to the crucial clue that had enabled Steve and the department to make an arrest. If he weren't such a great doctor, Steve would have suggested that Mark was wasted in medicine, a mind like his would give the geniuses at Quantico a run for their money. Still as Chief of Internal Medicine and Medical Consultant to the Police Department, the world at large and Steve in particular benefited from both of Mark Sloan's superlative talents.  
  
Gazing fondly at his father Steve realised that Mark was waiting for an answer, no doubt checking if he felt up to a little lively company. An evening with Dr. Jesse Travis was never a quiet one. With Jesse's boyish enthusiasm he lived life at a high level of decibels. Steve groaned inwardly, the way his head felt at the moment he wasn't sure he was up to dealing with a live wire like Jesse. Although as usual he'd tried to make light of it to his father, he wasn't feeling great. He thought longingly of his bed in his apartment downstairs, aware that he wouldn't be seeing it any time soon. Still, perhaps Jesse was just what he needed. Company would force him to stay alert and who knows maybe some of Jesse's enthusiasm would rub off and inject some energy into one tired homicide detective. Anyway there was always Amanda.  
  
Chief medical examiner Amanda Bentley was the opposite of Jesse in looks and demeanour. Whilst Jesse was blonde and impetuous, Amanda's dark beauty, graceful charm and quiet competence always had a calming effect on Steve. If Jesse's high spirits didn't give him a boost, perhaps Amanda's presence would help him unwind. To kick back and relax with his friends for a couple of hours could be just what he needed to clear his head and crack this case. Plus his father was right; some new perspectives couldn't hurt. God knows he wasn't getting anywhere fast. Both Amanda and Jesse had provided valuable assistance in the past. Combined with his father they were an unusual but formidable crime fighting team.  
  
'Nice idea Dad' Steve finally replied 'Some fresh pairs of eyes would be helpful' he sighed 'and the way my eyes are feeling right now anybody's would be fresher!'  
  
Mark opened his mouth ready to lecture Steve on the dangers of lack of sleep. He had seen the moment of indecision in his son eyes about whether he could handle company, and he knew that meant that despite what he said, Steve wasn't feeling his usual sociable self.  
  
Steve sensing a lecture cut him off 'I'll see ya tonight Dad. Master's will bust my butt if I don't get to the station right now'.  
  
Realising he'd been hijacked Mark sighed resignedly, waving farewell as Steve shrugged on his jacket and headed for the door. Congratulating himself on a rare outmanoeuvre of his father, Steve's hand was on the door knob when he was stopped by his father's voice  
  
'Steve!'  
  
Rolling his eyes he turned. Mark flipped the remaining box of aspirin to him, which he caught neatly in his left hand.  
  
'Thanks' Steve acknowledged.  
  
Pocketing the aspirin he couldn't help a rueful smile – where his health was concerned his father always got the last word!  
  
2 Chapter Two  
  
'You're late Sloan' Chief Masters barked as Steve entered the office down town. Seated opposite Masters, Detective Tannis Archer shot Steve a sympathetic glance. He looked like hell she noticed. Still he'd get used to it, like the rest of them had. Masters was a great cop, but his unrelenting schedule tended to push his officers to their limits. Steve looked like he'd reached his already, but Tannis knew better than to underestimate Lieutenant Sloan. He was a tough son of a bitch. The way he'd handled himself when his father was on death row, he'd proved to her and everyone else that he could cut it. Only two weeks out of the hospital, still recuperating from near fatal gunshot wounds, he'd worked tirelessly to prove his father's innocence and secure his release.  
  
She had a lot of respect for Steve Sloan. Their professional relationship could have been destroyed when she was partly responsible for bringing evidence against his father, but Steve had never blamed her for the role she'd played. He was one of the good guys. With Steve everything was straight and above board. Those unshakeable morals combined with the beach boy good looks made for a winning combination. He was certainly the kind of guy you could take home to mom – if you were interested in dating cops that is, which she wasn't.  
  
But still Tannis wondered how he'd cope on the task force where the line between good and evil was more than a little blurry. She sighed; she'd seen guys like Steve before, those who really cared, who had the good intentions, who wanted to 'save the world'. Hell perhaps she'd even been a little guilty of that herself when she first joined the task force. Three years of working with Masters, with what she'd seen, it was hard to hold on to those ideals. She recognised that she'd become cynical, but knew it was that cynicism that kept her alive.  
  
Steve was filling Masters in on their progress to date – a big fat nothing as far as Tannis was concerned. This case had them all stumped. Steve wasn't the only one losing sleep. They were both getting edgy, their frustration making working relationships strained. They were waiting for one clue, anything to get a break in the case. This was the part of her job she hated – the waiting around whilst some psychopath continued his killing spree. Shuffling papers and knocking on doors and meanwhile innocent people were losing their lives. She sighed again knowing she couldn't afford to make this personal and hoping that Steve would be smart enough to realise that too.  
  
Masters finally dismissed them and Tannis rose stiffly, trailing Steve to his desk in the outer office. Dropping heavily into his chair Steve closed his eyes, seeking temporary respite from the hustle and bustle around him.  
  
'You okay?' Tannis' concerned voice penetrated his consciousness.  
  
'Nothing a week's sleep wouldn't cure' Steve answered with a yawn.  
  
'Tell me about' she agreed rolling her eyes.  
  
'Failing that' Steve frowned 'a break in this case would do. Anything to make me feel we were at least making a little progress'.  
  
'There has to be something we've missed in those files' Tannis fumed in frustration 'Something that ties the two victims together'.  
  
'You mean something besides the fact that they were both high profile Professors at UCLM?' Steve replied grumpily.  
  
'Exactly' she continued ignoring his mood. 'These can't be just random hits. There must be some sort of pattern – the very fact that they are both eminent college professors tells us that'.  
  
'Student with a grudge' Steve stated, restarting the circular argument that had become characteristic of their interchange over the last couple of days.  
  
'May be' she agreed 'but the two professors are from different departments'.  
  
'Transfer student?'  
  
'From archaeology to chemistry?' Tannis wasn't convinced. 'I guess it's possible, but I still think something in those files on the backgrounds of the two victims holds the key. The answer is right in front of us, we're just not seeing it'.  
  
'Well' Steve replied 'If you want to take another look be my guest. Me, I've had enough of paper work. I was reading those files at three o'clock this morning; I need a change of scene'.  
  
'Where are you going?' Tannis asked  
  
'Back to the University. I think I'll go talk to some of the faculty. Now they've got over the 'shock' they may have a little more to say'.  
  
Levering himself out of the chair, Steve stretched 'I'm still thinking it's gotta be a student'. He turned to look at Tannis, finally cracking a smile 'I mean what's not to hate about academics right? Huge egos, obscure research specialities, theorising from their ivory towers. They don't exactly live in the real world with the rest of us do they?'  
  
'Whoa, hold on there' Tannis smirked 'Sounds like you've got an inferiority complex to me. What's wrong Sloan?' she asked with mock sympathy, 'You never make it to your college graduation?'  
  
'Hey' Steve protested with pretend hurt 'I have a college degree. I lettered in football at C.U.'  
  
'Oh well' Tannis teased 'Then I'm sure you'll fit right in'. She smirked 'Hey maybe we could send you in undercover. I can just see you in a tweed suit Professor'.  
  
'Very funny Archer' Steve grimaced. 'Happy reading!' He tossed back at her sardonically as he left the office.  
  
'Mmmph' Tannis replied to his back, dropping into his recently vacated seat and opening the files again.  
  
  
  
3 Chapter Three  
  
Whistling merrily to himself, Dr. Jesse Travis darted in and out of the gurneys and trolleys transporting patients and equipment throughout the myriad of corridors at Community General Hospital. Naturally optimistic and exuberant, his sunny disposition was currently enhanced by the recent acceptance of his dinner invitation by one particularly attractive young nurse. Susan Hilliard sure was pretty Jesse mused to himself. Smiling at colleagues and patients alike he made his way towards the Doctors' lounge. Bursting through the door he found Drs. Mark Sloan and Amanda Bentley enjoying a companionable five minutes between patients.  
  
'Hey guys, what's up?' he beamed  
  
'Hey Jess' Mark smiled  
  
'You look particularly pleased with yourself this morning' Amanda noted suspiciously, her interest immediately peaked. 'Care to enlighten us?' she invited.  
  
'Hey you know me' Jesse hedged 'I'm just a naturally cheery guy'.  
  
'That's true' Mark agreed amused by Amanda's 'big sister nosiness' and Jesse's all too obvious squirming.  
  
'Come on Jesse, give it up' Amanda protested 'I know something's going on'  
  
'Okay, okay', he held up his hands 'What can I say, I'm irresistible!'  
  
'So Susan's finally agreed to go out with you' Amanda surmised 'That's great!' she smiled, then looking sternly at Jesse 'You'd better treat her properly or you'll have me to deal with!'  
  
Jesse treated Amanda to a look of mock hurt 'As if I'd do anything else'.  
  
'So where are you taking her?' Mark asked still amused at the banter.  
  
'Bob's of course', Jesse replied with a self-satisfied grin, referring to the barbecue joint co-owned by himself and Steve.  
  
'Bob's!' Amanda exclaimed in horror. 'You can't take her to Bob's. A girl has to be wined and dinned. You have to make her feel special, spoil her with champagne and fine foods. You have to create the right ambience. Soft lights and sweet music, may be some dancing.' Amanda sighed to herself, briefly caught up in her own fantasy.  
  
'Guess I'll leave all that to Ron' Jesse snickered, referring to Amanda's current beau, FBI agent Ron Wager.  
  
'At least Ron knows how to treat a lady' Amanda countered smugly.  
  
'Yeah, when he's not on the other side of the World' Jesse pointed out.  
  
'So' Mark intervened hurriedly 'How about you two joining Steve and I for dinner at the beach house tonight?'  
  
'Who's cooking?' Amanda and Jesse asked in unison.  
  
Mark laughed, his son had many talents, but cooking wasn't one of them. Steve's culinary expertise didn't extend beyond burgers and fries or the barbecue sauce he occasionally concocted at Bobs.  
  
''Don't worry' he reassured them 'Steve's far too busy at the moment to spend any time in the kitchen'.  
  
'Tell me about it' Jesse groaned. 'He's cried off all of his shifts at Bob's. In fact I can't even remember the last time I saw him there – or here for that matter!'  
  
'I know' Mark agreed 'I've hardly seen him at the house either. He's been working late, leaving early. I saw him briefly this morning and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks'.  
  
'He probably hasn't' Amanda tutted. 'Do you know he phoned me up at one o'clock this morning to ask me about an autopsy report. He's lucky he didn't wake CJ or there would have been another murder to investigate! Honestly, the man is obsessed!'  
  
'That's what worries me' Mark sighed. 'He's so caught up in this case he's not making time for anything else. I think an evening with his friends is just what he needs'.  
  
'And may be his friends could also give him a little help with the case' Amanda smiled, looking at Mark knowingly.  
  
'Well you know it couldn't hurt' Mark grinned  
  
'Great!' Jesse enthused 'What time do you want us?' 


	2. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Thanks Lauren for the info on 'Ivy League' please excuse my ignorance!  I'm not sure if I've mentioned it anywhere else in the story, but if I can find it I'll try and take it out.  By the way UCLM is completely fictitious!!**

Still yawning, Steve pulled his truck into the main parking lot at UCLM.  Manoeuvring expertly between a Jaguar and a Beamer he shook his head – since when were college students so affluent? From his background reading he knew this was a prestigious school but did 'prestigious' always have to equal rich?  Climbing down from the truck he squinted painfully against the bright California sunshine, which was doing little to improve either his headache or his mood.  Resolutely reaching back into the truck, he popped the glove compartment and retrieved both his sunglasses and the aspirin his father had supplied.  

Looking around as he chewed and swallowed the pills, he had to admit that despite his personal indisposition, it was a beautiful day.  The California sky was a deep blue, the kind perpetually depicted on the picture postcards that were eagerly purchased by over enthusiastic tourists down at the boardwalk.  Steve smiled ruefully – a great day for surfing, or loafing around on the beach, two pastimes he wouldn't be indulging in for quite some time, given his lack of headway with this current case.

The morning sun had burnt off the hazy LA smog and all around him the campus was a wash with young men and women enjoying the warm weather.  Dressed in shorts, the girls sporting minute sun tops and many of the guys bare-chested, they looked fresh and relaxed.  In contrast, Steve felt decidedly over dressed in jeans, with a jacket covering his badge and gun.  Wearily he ran a hand through his hair; he had already broken into a sweat. The ocean glistening in the distance looked cool and inviting.  He sighed, as much as he loved his job there were times when the responsibility he carried was oppressive.

Calling amiably to each other, tossing Frisbees, talking on cell phones, the college students looked as though they didn't have a care in the world.  Apparently the double homicide hadn't prevented campus life quickly reverting to normality.  Steve smiled to himself, surely only underclassmen could devote time and energy to the arrangement of their social lives whilst a potential psychopath lurked in their midst. He marvelled at the resilience of youth, and for once felt his age.  

'Look out!'

With finely honed reflexes born from intensive police training, Steve reacted instantly.  Simultaneously ducking and turning, his left hand reached instinctively for the gun concealed at his right hip.  As such the wayward football heading in his direction struck him solidly in the chest, taking his breath away.  Winded, he doubled over wheezing. With hands on knees, head down and heart still racing from the adrenaline elicited by a potential attack, it took a good few seconds to regain his composure.  'Nice move Sloan' he groaned to himself 'Real slick'.

Once his equilibrium was sufficiently restored, he bent and scooped up the ball, which had come to a stop at his feet.  Still slightly breathless, Steve mentally chastised himself for being so damn edgy.  Pulling his gun on a gang of college football players in the middle of a crowd of kids would not have done much for police-public relations.  He could imagine quite vividly the Chief's response to that kind of indiscretion.  He shook his head, what the hell had gotten into him anyway, he wasn't usually so trigger-happy.

'Sorry man!' a youth sporting what looked like team colours bounded up to reclaim the ball, smiling sheepishly at Steve.  His energy and enthusiasm reminded Steve of Jesse, but this young man was much taller and broader than the Doctor.  In fact he was closer in build to Steve himself, but more rangy – a characteristic of his adolescence no doubt.

'You've got a good arm' Steve applauded, 'But' he continued dryly, rubbing his chest for emphasis, 'you might wanna think about working on your accuracy'.

'That's what Coach is always telling me' the kid admitted, 'You play?'

'Used to' Steve replied, then thinking fast 'My trick knee put an end to that' he adlibbed 'Injury I picked up playing college ball'.

'That's too bad' the youth sympathised 'Don't know what I'd do if I had to quit.  Don't even wanna think about it' he shuddered.

'I still do some coaching' Steve explained, hoping to prolong the unexpected interaction with the aim of steering it towards the case.  Experience over the years had taught him that often the most valuable information sprang from casual conversation.  Whilst he would never abuse his position and wasn't comfortable with outright lies, when it came to homicide cases sometimes it was prudent to play along a little – it was surprising how reticent even the most open person could become when they realised they were talking to the LAPD.  In contrast it was equally amazing how much people would willingly reveal to a friendly stranger.

'So you here about the assistant coach's job?' the youth asked 'We really need to work on our defence' he grinned.

Steve smiled to himself; here was his opening 'From what I've seen in the papers this isn't the safest place to be on the faculty'.

'You heard about the murders right?'

Steve nodded.

'They were far out' the youth continued  'just like you get in the movies, you know like in 'Scream' or 'I know what you did last summer'.  Man my parents were freaking when they heard, wanted me straight back home.  But I said 'No way' I mean how could I leave and miss out on all the excitement'.  He grinned enthusiastically and Steve winced inwardly at the boy's naivety.

'Everyone's been talking about it' he continued, 'although the faculty and the Dean are trying to keep it quiet'.  He indicated a team mate sprawled on the grass to their left 'Donny's running a book on the likely suspects - for Peterson's murder you can get pretty good odds on just about anybody from the Board of Directors down to the janitor's cat.' 

'Oh yeah?' Steve prompted, firmly pushing aside his disgust at their insensitive disregard for the sanctity of human life.

'Yeah, you should talk to my girlfriend' the boy continued excitedly, obviously enjoying his moment in the spot light 'She took his chem class and according to her no one liked him, not his students or the faculty.  The guy was mean you know? Real temper, he'd fly off the handle at the least little thing.  Rumour is he had a drink problem.  Everyone knows he suffered real bad with the DT's.  Stacy said you could even see his hands shaking when he was in class.'  

He paused considering 'Guess they kept him on staff because his work gets so much publicity – he's always on the TV and in magazines.'  

Leaning closer to Steve he continued dramatically 'According to Stacy his grading curve really sucked.  He used to sink everybody, stopped people from graduating and everything, but nobody dared complain.  I guess now they won't have to'. 

'What about the other guy?' Steve asked 'Your girlfriend take his classes too?' 

'No, but Davie did.  Hey Dave' he beckoned to a stocky youth with a crew cut, also in team sweats 'Come here a minute'

'What's up man?  We're waiting to start the game' Davie complained as he ambled over to Steve and the first youth.

'You took Summers' classes right?'

'Sure – the ones I actually got to' Davie grinned lazily, '9am class ya know, doesn't really fit into my social schedule'.

'What was he like?' Steve asked conversationally, hoping Davie would be as forthcoming as his team mate.

'Pretty average' Davie replied 'Can't say I thought about him much.  He was new, just transferred here from Ohio.  Okay guy I guess, he played some ball so he was pretty good with us jocks – gradewise I mean' he winked at Steve 'you get what I'm saying?'

'Sure do' Steve replied, forcing himself to mirror the guy's smile.  He was well aware of the need for athletes to attain certain grades in order to remain on their teams – he'd been in that position himself during his own college days.  He also knew that some colleges were pretty lenient towards those with athletic potential - but UCLM?  Was a school that prided itself on its academic excellence really cheating on grades?

Already his mind was working over time, searching for potential motives – had Summers been running some kind of scam, trying to boost his promotion prospects by recruiting high profile jocks?  Surely UCLM wouldn't relish a reputation tarnished by academic dishonesty – had someone found out about Summers' scheme and tried to shut it down permanently?  What about Peterson?  It didn't sound like he was doing anybody any favours, so where did he fit in?

'He was a young guy for a professor' Davie continued 'really into his subject though.  How a young guy could be so into all that old stuff I don't know.  He was forever trying to get us to go on trips with him to dig up junk.  I mean hey, the past is the past right?'

'Right' Steve agreed rolling his eyes as he humoured the youth.  He paused, keen to press Davie for more information, about the 'jock grade' issue, but uncertain how best to proceed without arousing suspicion.  Already the two boys had revealed a wealth of information, but any more direct questioning and his adopted persona would undoubtedly slip from casually interested football coach to desperate cop. His contemplation was rudely interrupted by catcalls and boos from the remaining football players, who having spent the last ten minutes lounging on the grass in the sunshine were growing restless to restart their game.  Tossing the ball at them, Davie and the first youth – Steve had never gotten his name, were off.  Steve was forgotten as the two boys got caught up in the melee.  Whooping, cheering and brawling, they personified male adolescence, their high spirits testament to the exuberance of youth. 

                Watching them Steve sighed. The energy of the boys served only to reinforce his own weariness.  Despite the pills his headache had not abated and his sunglasses provided little relief from the glare of the midday sun.  He could feel his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back and he longed for a cold shower and a large beer – 'Not a chance Sloan' he told himself firmly.  The more time he took, the longer the killer would be on the loose.  He had a job to do and people's lives were depending on him doing it.  The information from the boys had certainly given him something to think about but he had more people to talk to.  Turning away from the football game he began to trudge wearily up the hill to the main cluster of academic buildings, contemplating his next move as he went.


	3. Chapter 5

1 Chapter Five  
  
'Ouch!' Jesse Travis winced slapping a hand against the back of his neck 'Something just bit me.'  
  
'Let me take a look.' Stepping away from the patient he was attending to, Mark Sloan moved behind Jesse, characteristically pushing his glasses down his nose for a clearer view. 'You know, it looks a little red, but I can't see any bite mark Jess' he replied thoughtfully.  
  
'I swear I just felt something' Jesse persisted stubbornly. Pulling a face he ran a finger around the inside collar of his white coat, attempting to locate the source of his pain.  
  
'I can't think what you could have been bitten by in here' Mark pondered. Mildly curious he examined the possibilities in his mind 'Its not really the season for mosquitoes' he thought out loud, 'but then I suppose with this unusually hot weather we're having ….'  
  
'Ahem!'  
  
The overly obvious throat clearing - the tone of which indicated annoyance in the extreme cut Mark's musings prematurely short. He turned apologetically back to his patient, a rather large middle aged woman, who sported a sallow complexion and a seemingly permanent scowl.  
  
'So, Mrs O'Brien' he began warmly, seeking to appease her obvious displeasure 'How are you fee ….'  
  
'Dr. Sloan' she cut across him irritably 'I thought in a hospital the doctors treat the patients, not each other'.  
  
'You know Mrs O'Brien you're absolutely right' Mark replied smiling winningly at her, whilst treating Jesse to a ghost of a wink.  
  
Elsa O'Brien was scheduled for a gall bladder operation later in the week. Community General's nursing staff, who had to deal with the woman on a daily basis, were counting the hours until she was no longer in their care. Mark had heard from Susan Hilliard, via Jesse, that ever since she'd arrived, Elsa had been making the nurses' lives a misery. Having met her himself, Mark could well believe it.  
  
Professionally he cared a great deal about his patients and personally he tried to see the best in everyone, but even Mark had to agree that Mrs O'Brien could be down right unpleasant. However, he wasn't without sympathy for the woman. With an insight engendered from years of experience, he appreciated that some people responded aggressively when they were anxious and in pain.  
  
But sympathetic or not, the fact remained that Mrs O'Brien was undoubtedly a difficult patient. Mark knew she would require only the slightest provocation to lodge unjust complaints about individual staff or indeed the hospital as a whole. As such she had to be handled with care. As Chief of Internal Medicine he felt duty bound to set a good example to his staff of how to deal effectively with 'awkward customers'.  
  
He smiled to himself, amused at the 'shop keeper' analogy that had sprung to mind. All too quickly his humour evaporated. It was a sad fact that in recent years hospitals had become akin to retailers, competing aggressively for the favours of their clientele. It was no longer enough to be a good doctor; you now had to be skilled at public relations, promotions and business management. He sighed to himself, remembering how different it used to be. Back when he was Jesse's age there had been time to get to know the patients, time to care. These days he was lucky if got to talk to his patients about anything beyond the rudiments of their immediate physical symptoms. And that wasn't the only change. With the progression of modern technology had come impossible ethical decisions, which now beset his working life. More and more often, he was forced to become embroiled in battles with the board of governors, simply to ensure that in doing his job, he could still sleep at night and still look at himself in the mirror each morning.  
  
He sighed, times had changed. The world was a dangerous place and there were now numerous ways for human beings to inflict pain and suffering upon each other. For a man in his position, it would be easy to become jaded, but pessimism was not his natural state. Mark had never been one to wallow in self-pity. Shaking off his unusually gloomy thoughts, he paused for a moment instead to consider his blessings. By all accounts he had much to be grateful for – not only a marvellous son, with whom he shared a unique and special bond, but friends that he loved and was able to consider family. In addition he was blessed with good health and a mind that had remained remarkably sharp, despite his advancing years – both gifts allowed him to continue practising medicine, a profession he loved. Feeling foolish, he smiled at his earlier retreat down memory lane – reminiscing back to the 'good old days' was a sure sign of old age! Mark knew that Steve, had he been privy to his father's self-indulgent nostalgia, would have rolled his eyes in affectionate amusement.  
  
Taking a deep breath he turned back to the problem at hand – Mrs O'Brien. Enjoying a challenge he determined to win her over. Perceptively sizing her up in an instant, his opening gambit was on his lips when his right ear erupted with a sharp and stinging pain.  
  
'Hey!' he cried out in surprise putting up a hand to massage the smarting lobe.  
  
'You too huh?' Jesse confirmed, nodding his head sagely. 'I'm telling you, there's some killer mosquito on the loose here Mark'.  
  
Warming to his subject the young doctor continued with the confidence of one on intimate terms with the rather more eccentric sites available on the World Wide Web. 'Must be something to do with El Nino' he declared knowledgeably. Hardly drawing a breath he continued excitedly 'You know everybody says that the climate is getting more and more unpredictable - with this heat it could be some freak infestation of killer bugs'. He looked at Mark earnestly 'There was this case in Ohio last year where giant frogs were found in the sewer systems, and in Eastern Europe there's been unusually frequent incidences of locusts migrating in vast swarms – locusts aren't even indigenous to Eastern Europe! I also heard that because of the Ozone layer and the increasing numbers of people now living in California ….'  
  
'Jesse!' Mark interrupted firmly, determined to stem the flow whilst he could still get a word in edge ways. Jesse's overactive imagination was in the main, Mark knew, a combination of the young doctor's fondness for the internet and his avid consumption of late night trash TV. On many occasions in homicide cases, Jesse's enviable repertoire of bizarre trivia had proved strangely insightful, sparking parallels for Mark that had enabled his eventual solution. Jesse was however, Mark thought fondly, rather apt to overly indulge in the realms of the fantastic. Thus he sometimes missed the more ordinary and usually correct explanation - as was the case today.  
  
Holding a finger to his lips to signal Jesse to be quiet, Mark whispered 'I don't think a mosquito is the culprit here'.  
  
Once he was finally silent, Jesse heard what had been audible to Mark a few moments earlier. A sound that could only be a child's suppressed laughter was emanating from the closed curtain which currently concealed the bed behind them. Signalling Jesse to move around to the other side of the curtain, Mark began talking slowly 'I think you could be right Jess' he said, clearly enunciating each and every word for the benefit of their young intruder 'that certainly felt like one big bug.'  
  
Taking hold of the curtain and motioning Jesse to do the same, Mark spoke more loudly 'But you know' he continued 'I think if we look carefully we'll find that the answer is a little more mundane.' On Mark's cue both doctors pulled on the curtains, successfully startling the small, tousled- headed boy who had been hiding behind them.  
  
'Jonathan!' Jesse admonished in surprise 'You know you're not supposed to be hanging out on the wards by yourself. Where's your Mom?'  
  
'She's taken my sister to the bathroom' the boy replied sulkily. Wiping at his nose with the grubby sleeve of his sweat-shirt he looked defiantly at the two doctors before proclaiming 'I'm bored, this place really sucks'.  
  
'Well you know the hospital can actually be pretty exciting if you know the right places to go' Mark replied smiling kindly at him. He knew the seven- year old and his family well. Jonathan's older brother was currently resident in the children's burn unit, having gotten into trouble trying to set fire to an old tyre in the family's backyard. The Marsdens were regular visitors in the ER. Mrs. Marsden was a lovely woman, but she found her two young boys a handful. And who wouldn't Mark smiled to himself, remembering some of the scrapes Steve had gotten himself into at that age.  
  
'How's about we go and get some candy from the machine round the corner' Mark suggested 'And you can show me that fine piece of weaponry you were just firing at us. Jesse can send your Mom up to us when she gets back from the bathroom'.  
  
'It's my pea shooter' Jonathan explained proudly, his face instantly lighting up. 'My uncle made it for me'. Eyes shining he held up the crudely fashioned, wooden weapon for Mark's inspection.  
  
'Well that is a beauty' Mark whistled admiringly 'You know, I haven't seen one of these since my son was about your age'.  
  
'It fires the peas really fast' Jonathan boasted proudly 'They really sting when they hit you!'  
  
'We know!' Jesse complained rubbing his neck.  
  
'You know these types of weapons originated in the Middle East.' Mark explained, as a fascinated Jonathan took his hand and the pair began walking slowly out of the ward 'The ancients used them to attack their enemies, but usually they fired small darts instead of peas.'  
  
Jesse could still hear Mark's voice as the two disappeared round the corner. Smiling at the seemingly unlikely combination of the elderly, distinguished looking, Chief of Medicine and the small, tattered child, Jesse had to admit that what had just taken place was not typical of many of his superiors. It was however typical of Mark Sloan. Jesse knew that there were some who considered Mark far too eccentric for a Chief of Staff. But to Jesse, Mark was Mark, and as far as he was concerned there wasn't a better doctor or a better friend. He couldn't quite quantify how or when his friendship with Mark had really begun, nor could he reason what had prompted Mark to accept him so unconditionally into his home and into his life. What he did know was that he would be eternally grateful. As a child, Jesse had pretty much grown up without a father. As an adult, he had in Mark the father he had always craved.  
  
Thinking about Mark and the young Jonathan, Jesse had no doubt that the pair would now be happily munching candy bars and taking turns firing the pea shooter at unsuspecting staff. He smiled; Mark really did have a way with people – especially kids. It was almost as if he cast some sort of spell over them. He grinned to himself, where kids were concerned Mark was a regular Pied Piper. 'Yeah' Jesse thought pleased with the description 'Mark Sloan – the Pied Piper of Malibu'. Still amused by the image he had created he turned back to his patient 'So Mrs O'Brien' he began cheerfully 'How are we feeling today?'  
  
'I'm feeling lousy' she snapped bad temperedly 'I've no idea how you're feeling'.  
  
Taking a deep breath Jesse pasted a winning smile on his face and picked up the chart at the bottom of the bed 'I love my job' he stated firmly. 


	4. Chapter 6

1 Chapter Six  
  
'I love my job' Tannis sighed as she flicked through the files on the Professors for the umpteenth time. Sloan had the right idea. At least he was out catching some rays. She on the other hand was stuck in this humid office on what was turning out to be one of the hottest days of the year. Was the Chief too cheap to spring for decent air conditioning or what?  
  
Looking back at Summers' file she had to admit there was nothing much to go on, apart from the swiftness of his rise to prominence. He had a fairly typical academic track record, culminating in his Doctoral thesis and teaching post at the University of Ohio. Apparently to those in the know, the thesis had been hot real stuff and it was this research that had projected Summers' into his current high profile position at UCLM, gaining a Professorship at 38 – a reasonably young age by all accounts.  
  
From his personal details she knew that he was married. In fact his wife Natasha was also an archaeologist on staff at the University. Now she would definitely be worth pursuing Tannis decided. In her experience most killers were known by the victim – could Mrs. Summers have wanted rid of her husband? She and Steve had spoken to the woman at the scene and she had not proved particularly forthcoming – in shock apparently. Tannis wasn't so sure. She'd watched Natasha Summers closely and granted the woman had done a pretty good job of looking upset, but there was something about her that didn't feel right.  
  
When she'd voiced her suspicions to Steve he'd laughed at her. She'd cringed as he'd made cracks about 'women's intuition' and even worse jealousy. Tannis couldn't really blame him, after all she had nothing to substantiate her theory beyond gut instinct. Plus Natasha Summers was an amazing looking woman. The perfect figure and glorious dark hair which fell in waves around her shoulders, combined with the exotic brown eyes and full red lips – yep there was no doubt Mrs. Summers was quite a package. Tannis feeling dowdy in her grey suit and slacks with her hair scraped back and minimal make-up, hadn't failed to notice the admiring glances Mrs. Summers had received from the male officers, Steve included.  
  
She sighed – was she jealous? She didn't like to think of herself that way. And more to the point, why the hell should she care that Steve found Natasha Summers attractive? They were partners, that's all.  
  
'Get a grip Tannis' she told herself sternly, abruptly pushing back her chair and heading for the water cooler in the outer corridor.  
  
'Hey Archer, how's it going?'  
  
Tannis sighed, as she came face to face with the two burly officers blocking her way. John Wyatt and Cal McBride were good cops, but their schoolboy humour could get a little wearing. She knew exactly how this conversation was gonna go down.  
  
Tannis had been in the force long enough to know that gaining acceptance as a female officer didn't come easy. At best they didn't take you seriously, at worst they refused to be paired up with you, not trusting that a woman could hold her own in the field. She'd struck lucky being paired up with Steve Sloan – he was one of the few men on the force who didn't discriminate. She knew Steve trusted her, just as she trusted him. Sure he was as macho as the next guy, and he'd rather take the risks himself than put her in danger, but Tannis guessed he'd be like that with any partner. Steve might tease her once in a while, but their partnership was built on mutual respect. Unfortunately, not all the guys in the department were as enlightened as Steve – she still had to deal with the Neanderthals.  
  
'Hey Wyatt, McBride' she nodded to the two detectives, hoping to make this brief and escape to the sanctity of her desk and files.  
  
'I hear you and surfer boy 'ain't doing so great on the campus crawler case' Wyatt smirked, popping the gum he perpetually chewed.  
  
'You know' he continued 'if Sloan's not up to it and you need a real man to help you out - me and McBride don't mind stepping in.'  
  
He grinned at her lasciviously and Tannis rolled her eyes, refusing to rise 'Campus Crawler?' she replied 'That's cute guys, real cute.'  
  
Taking a step to the side she attempted to pass them.  
  
'We thought so' McBride grinned amiably at her, blocking her way with his bulk.  
  
'You gotta admit' he pointed out, 'the small spaces this guy gets into, he's gotta be able to crawl'.  
  
'How do you know it's a he?' Tannis challenged 'Could easily be a woman'.  
  
'Yeah right' Wyatt scoffed 'Taking out two guys? You see the size of Summers? He might have been a professor but he was built like a quarterback'.  
  
'You don't think it's possible for a woman to take out a guy?' Tannis questioned, raising her eyebrows.  
  
'Well I don't know Archer' Wyatt winked at her suggestively 'Why don't we test it out. You wanna go a little one on one?'  
  
Smiling seductively Tannis moved closer, her blonde hair tantalisingly brushing his cheek, as she pressed against him.  
  
'You know what John?' she breathed into his ear.  
  
'What Tannis?' he asked leaning into her, more than a little excited by their sudden close proximity.  
  
'You're fighting way out of your league' she finished sweetly, as hooking her left leg around his, she swept her right leg through in a swift judo move that brought him crashing to the floor.  
  
'See ya around boys' she called as McBride hooting with laughter, helped his partner to his feet.  
  
'Well whaddaya know', she thought to herself with a smile, maybe the day wasn't gonna be such a bust after all.  
  
'Sloan's certainly got his hands full with that one' McBride noted, appreciatively eyeing Tannis from behind as she walked down the corridor.  
  
'Yeah' Wyatt agreed, also watching.  
  
'Lucky son of a bitch' they finished together, exchanging grins. 


	5. Chapter 7

Leaving the college ball players to finish their game, Steve had headed up to the Eastside of the Campus having decided on the chemistry department as his first port of call. From the information they had collected so far, interviewing Professor Maggie Taylor was his priority. An Australian who'd lived in the US for almost ten years Taylor was, as Steve saw it, Peterson's second in command. In her 40's and unmarried, it seemed she was the consummate career woman. Apparently there were few women with Professorships at UCLM or elsewhere, that Taylor had achieved one marked her out as someone special. Fighting his way through the crowds of students, Steve realised he'd run straight into the lunchtime rush. 'Great' he thought to himself moodily, in all likelihood Professor Taylor would be down in the cafeteria enjoying her lunch and he'd have trudged all the way up here for nothing. As he'd suspected her office was empty, but peering through a door to his left he spotted a shock of unruly red hair, scraped back haphazardly into a low ponytail. The woman, who was wearing a white lab coat, had her back to him and was intensely preoccupied with something on the bench before her. Taylor? Steve didn't think so, from his rather restricted vantage point he couldn't be sure, but he sensed that this woman was too young to be the Professor he was looking for. Clearing his throat, Steve entered the lab. Before he'd taken more than two steps, the woman turned, eyes blazing. He had only seconds to register that this was a rather attractive girl in her twenties, not a mature woman of forty, before she rounded on him angrily. 'Hey!' She reprimanded 'Can't anybody read in this country? It specifically says on the door that when the red light is on, there's no entry to the lab. These are delicate chemicals I'm working with here. The room has to be kept at a constant temperature'. Unperturbed Steve pulled out his badge 'Lieutenant Steve Sloan, L.A.P.D.' he drawled 'And you would be?' 'Vicky Harris' she supplied, defiantly pushing back a stray curl 'I'm Professor Peterson's Post Graduate student' she paused hesitantly before adding 'or at least I was'. Steve brightened, although there was no sign of Professor Taylor, he could at least question the girl, thus salvaging some of his wasted time. 'Well Miss Harris' he began authoritatively, 'I'm sorry to disrupt your work but I need to ask you a couple of questions'. 'About Professor Peterson?' she queried 'That's right'. Steve confirmed. Vicky wrinkled her nose 'I've already spoken to the police and told them everything I know'. 'Well I'm afraid you're gonna have to go over it all again - with me' Steve stated firmly, really not in the mood for an argument. He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly 'We can do it here or I can take you down to the station. It's up to you'. Sensing his impatience, Vicky acquiesced 'Okay Lieutenant, I'm not sure what good it'll do, but I'll answer your questions'. 'Now that's more like it' Steve applauded fishing his pen and note pad from his jacket pocket. 'But can I just finish adding carbonic acid to these samples?' she added hastily, refusing to be intimidated 'If I don't do it now the samples will be ruined and my whole morning will have been wasted. Professor Taylor won't be happy if the project falls even further behind'. Rolling his eyes Steve dropped heavily on to a nearby lab stool - god these academics were obsessed with their work. 'Go ahead' he sighed, knowing from experience that he wouldn't gain her full attention until she had dealt with the samples 'But don't take all day, its my time you're wasting now'. 'Of course' she replied smiling at him thankfully before turning back to her test tubes and pipette. Fifteen minutes later and each sample had been methodically treated with the carbonic solution. Vicky let out a sigh of relief, now she could relax for an hour or so until the process had to be repeated. She smiled half- heartedly 'relax' - who was she kidding? 'Relaxation' was hardly an appropriate description for a police interrogation. She sighed wishing she was anywhere but here, but there was no escape. From his attitude it was obvious that Lieutenant Sloan's wasn't leaving until he got some answers.  
  
'Okay, all done!' she called over her shoulder as she tidied away the used equipment. Receiving no response she looked round. The Detective had his head in his hands - 'god, was he asleep?' she wondered incredulously. She was tempted to leave him there in order to avoid the grilling, but knew it would only be postponing the inevitable. Every thing about Lieutenant Sloan suggested that he was a man on a mission. She got the distinct impression he wouldn't appreciate having to chase around after her. In his current mood, Vicky could quite easily imagine him hauling her down to the police station and throwing her in a cell for wasting police time. No, she decided firmly, it was best to get it over with. Besides facing things head on was much more her style than running away. Rather tentatively she leaned towards him 'Lieutenant?' she prompted loudly Steve jumped - God had he been asleep? 'Sorry', he muttered blushing slightly 'Must be the heat'. 'Yeah', Vicky agreed, rather amused at his obvious embarrassment and surprised that perhaps he was human after all 'It is pretty warm in here' she smiled. 'Actually' she admitted, 'that's one of the reasons I applied for the studentship. We don't get weather like this at home. The California sunshine and the chance to work with Professor Peterson - it was just too good to refuse'. 'And home is?' Steve asked, having tried and failed to place her accent. She definitely wasn't an American he decided. May be she was Australian like Taylor. 'Surrey' she replied, and at his puzzled expression continued helpfully 'London, England. I completed my undergraduate degree at Cambridge and then was offered the chance to begin my doctoral studies here in the states'. 'So Peterson is famous in England then?' Steve asked surprised. He knew Peterson was some big name Professor, he'd picked that up from the files, but the finer details of the workings of academic communities eluded him. His lack of knowledge, he thought wryly, put him at a distinct disadvantage given his present circumstances. 'That's what the book work is for', a little voice inside his head reminded him, but he quashed it and continued with the interrogation. Vicky looked at him in disbelief before continuing 'Of course he's famous in England Lieutenant, he was the leading light in the field. His research is world-renowned. In fact he was presenting at an International conference in Cairo just the other week'. 'Presenting on what exactly?' Steve queried, jotting down rough notes as she spoke. 'He is . was a world expert in organic spectometry' Vicky replied proudly. 'And in English that would be?' Steve asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. This time it was he who refused to be intimidated. He might not be an academic, but he wasn't gonna be thrown by long words, he'd heard enough of them from Amanda, Jesse and his Father over the years. 'Carbon dating' Vicky supplied. 'He was developing new techniques in classifying the age and density of organic and pre-organic compounds and formations'. 'And can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill him?' Steve asked bluntly, deciding it was time to cut to the chase. The girl visibly flinched, but was able to continue 'Professor Peterson was a genius' she stated quietly 'I suppose people with his kind of talent are always going to have enemies.' 'Anyone in particular?' Steve asked. 'I really couldn't say' Vicky sighed ' It's just that there's a lot of professional jealousy in research Lieutenant. With work as big as the Professor's there's vast amounts of money and prestige involved. In academia it's publish or perish, and it's getting more and more competitive to secure funding' she sighed, 'without research studies to your name you're nobody. Professor Peterson's work was brilliant; other scholars would do anything to get their hands on his research notes'. 'Including murder?' Steve prompted 'I don't know' she replied hesitantly 'You're the detective, I'm just telling you what I think'. Steve tried a different track. Ms Harris certainly gave the impression of being helpful, but her responses weren't giving much away. He decided to try pushing her on a more personal level. He cleared his throat 'And what exactly was your relationship with the Professor Miss Harris?' he asked sternly, She blinked in surprise at the about turn, and the accusatory tone in his voice, before replying 'He was supervising my studentship'. 'Meaning?' Steve prompted, noting her discomfort. 'I was funded by some of his research money to do some work on the project, you know the donkey-work' she explained, indicating the row of test tubes. 'My reward is a PhD at the end of it' she sighed 'although that looks pretty unlikely now. I'm trying to carry on, but without Professor Peterson the project looks pretty doomed. The backers are getting nervous and I don't blame them. Professor Taylor is picking it up as best she can, but it feels like this project has been cursed from the start - we've had equipment failure, samples going missing and now this'. 'And where were you on the night he died?' Steve asked 'I went to see a film at the Realto' she sighed 'alone' she added anticipating his next question. Steve looked at her keenly 'Any way of proving that?' She hesitated 'Well I have my ticket stub' she replied 'Apart from that no, unless any of the staff remember me'. 'I'll be checking that out' Steve informed her. 'Besides you and the two Professors' he continued, 'is anyone else in the department working on the project?' 'Just Eric Scott' Vicky told him 'He's Taylor's grad student. He usually works in the lab down the hall, but I don't think you'll find him there today'. 'And why might that be?' Steve prompted, raising his eyebrows. 'Professor Taylor sent him to pick up some equipment we need for the second phase of the project' she explained 'I don't think he'll be back in today'. 'And what about the Professor herself?' Steve asked. 'She's working from home' Vicky replied 'with all the media interest in the murder, she found she couldn't get anything done from her office'. Steve sighed, he wasn't gonna get to Taylor as quickly as he'd hoped, but at least his visit hadn't been entirely useless. He pocketed his notebook and turned to the girl. 'Well thank you for your time Ms Harris' he said, handing her a card detailing contact numbers for the office and his cell 'Should you think of anything else give me a call'. He had one foot out the door when he turned 'One more thing Ms Harris' Vicky looked up expectantly 'Yes?' 'I don't suppose you have any information about Professor Summers?'. She swallowed hard 'I know what I read in the papers' she replied, before continuing hesitantly 'he . er wasn't in this department and it's a pretty big campus'. 'I noticed that' Steve sighed wearily as he left the lab and Vicky behind. He was still recovering from his earlier trip across campus - why were colleges always built on the top of hills he wondered? Ordinarily he would have relished the exertion, but today his usual energy had deserted him, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. He hoped it was just the heat and his lack of sleep and not that he was coming down with something, he didn't have time to be sick right now. Pausing at the main door he checked his watch, it was a little after one. He knew he should call the station to check in, but he wasn't ready to go back to the office just yet. If he called, Tannis would suggest regrouping to discuss the information he'd gathered and to come up with their next move. They'd loose the rest of the day in paper work and he didn't have the patience for that right now. They had to keep moving, and the way he saw it they could move faster with him in the field. Archer was much better at the book work than he was, he thought, trying to ease his conscience. Besides, if she wanted him, she could get him on the cell. Since there were no other chemists available right now, he figured his best bet had to be the archaeology department. He could follow that up with a house call to Professor Taylor's and then head back to the station to check in with Tannis. She wouldn't be happy, but he was determined to do whatever it took to crack this case STAT. Satisfied with his plan he left the building, crossing his fingers that it wasn't a long walk to archaeology.  
  
Once the detective had gone Vicky let out a long shuddering breath. She had no idea how she was gonna get through this. Signing up for a PhD in America had sounded like such an adventure, as well as a great career move - how had it all gone so wrong so quickly? She hadn't meant to fall for a married man, it was totally against everything she believed in, but as soon as she'd set eyes on the Professor common sense had gone out of the window. Within weeks they'd become lovers and in those snatched moments when she was with him, she'd thought her heart would burst with happiness. She knew that it was wrong, that she was wrong, but she couldn't help herself, she'd fallen for him hook, line and sinker. In those heady first few weeks, she'd let her imagination run wild, fantasising about the life they would have together once his divorce had come through. God she'd been naive - the pain of that last conversation when he'd told her it had to end had been unbearable. Resolutely she pulled a tissue from the pocket of her lab coat and wiped angrily at the tears that were threatening to escape. Purposely she busied herself with the test tubes before her. So far work had been her salvation. As long as she was working she could pretend everything was normal, but visits from the police like the one just now brought reality crashing back. 'Are you okay Vick?' Startled she turned to see John Anderson one of the porters. He was a well- built, athletic looking man in his late thirties, may be early forties. The two of them had become pretty friendly since she'd joined the research team. As a postgrad chemist she worked strange hours - John had been great at sorting out her access to the labs. She smiled faintly 'I'm fine John, just feeling the strain a bit, you know'. He nodded kindly 'Must be hard for you with Professor Peterson gone'. 'It is' she agreed, 'but I suppose we've just got to carry on as best we can'. 'That's right Vick' John smiled encouragingly, attempting to cheer her up 'British stiff upper lip and all that!' Vicky smiled ruefully - if he only knew. 


	6. Chapter 8

Irritably Tannis snatched up the ringing telephone from Steve's desk. She was hot and tired and quite frankly ready to call it quits and go grab some lunch. Steve hadn't returned from the University and she'd heard nothing from him all morning. She knew he was uptight and running on empty, but they were supposed to be a team. She'd been about to call him on his cell when the office phone had rung. This had to be him, and boy was he gonna get a piece of her mind. 'Okay Sloan', she barked 'This had better be good'. The voice on the other end of the phone was suitably contrite, but it wasn't Steve, it was his father. Tannis groaned inwardly, her relationship with Mark Sloan was already pretty fragile, she certainly didn't need to add insult to injury by being rude to him over the phone. She knew Mark didn't bear grudges and he'd been nothing but pleasant with her, but she still felt a little awkward around him. Taking a deep breath she began to apologise 'I'm really sorry Mark' she tried to explain 'I thought it was Steve on the line'. In the Doctor's lounge at Community General Mark chuckled - obviously his son had been giving Sergeant Archer the run around. Mark liked Tannis a lot, despite their past history. He was pretty sure there was nothing going on between her and Steve, but was equally certain that he'd spotted a spark between them. Amanda, when he'd discussed his theory with her, had dismissed it as wishful thinking and accused him of being an old romantic.  
  
He sighed, maybe he was - he certainly wanted to see his son settle down. In Steve's line of work relationships weren't easy. Although Steve never said much, Mark knew that more than one girl had ended their relationship because she couldn't handle Steve being a cop. With Tannis, Mark thought, there wouldn't be that problem. Still, he'd vowed long ago not to meddle in his son's romantic affairs and he certainly wasn't gonna start today. If Steve and Tannis were meant to get together they'd do so on their own without any help from him. He smiled ruefully; given Tannis' current tone, at present that particular coupling seemed most unlikely. 'So I guess Steve's not with you' he joked, hoping to reassure her that he wasn't at all offended by the way she had answered his call. 'You guess right' she replied with a sigh 'He took off to the University first thing this morning and I've heard nothing since'. Mark winced, his son wasn't usually such a loose cannon 'I'm sure he'll have a good explanation' he proffered in Steve's defence. 'He'd better' Tannis replied emphatically 'Well' Mark replied 'When you do finally catch up with him, can you tell him I rang and remind him I'm cooking dinner tonight'. 'Sure thing' she replied 'And how's about I try and get him to go home early too' she continued 'May be that way he'll be back to his old self tomorrow'. 'Well if you could, that'd be great honey' Mark answered appreciatively. He was still troubled by Steve's behaviour, but didn't want to give Tannis any more cause for concern. Thanking her he put down the phone and sank back in his chair. Steve was really going hard at it with this case he thought worriedly. Mark wasn't a cop, but keeping Tannis in the dark and going it alone didn't sound like the most rational of behaviour. He knew his son took his job extremely seriously. Mark got the distinct impression that until the killers were caught, Steve felt personally responsible for the victims whose lives were taken. Well, he pondered, as a doctor, he could certainly identify with that - losing a patient was always heart-rending, no matter how long you'd been in the job. But if you were to survive, you had to remain detached - do what you can, but accept that some things are beyond your control. He sighed, his son might seem tough on the outside, but Mark knew that deep down he was vulnerable. He wanted to talk things through, but he knew that wasn't Steve's way. Forcing himself to think more constructively, Mark's thoughts turned towards that evening's dinner. He determined to cook Steve's favourite, comforting himself with the thought that if he couldn't deal with Steve's emotional needs right now, he could at least tackle the physical ones. 


	7. Chapter 9

With great effort Steve quashed the urge to punch the guy's lights out.  He knew lack of sleep was making him irritable.  He also knew that he had a tendency to let his temper get the better of him, but seriously Dr. Ignasious Schwenk would have tried anyone's patience.  So far Steve had spent 15 minutes in the guy's company and that was definitely more than enough.  

Having left Vicky Harris to her test tubes he had located the archaeology department – thankfully downhill, without too much trouble.  He now found himself at the mercy of Dr. Schwenk, PhD in archaeology and specialist in the occult.  The office was pokey and dark, shutting out the warmth of the California sunshine.  The stale odour of sweat and tobacco combined with the musty, almost exotic smell emanating from the ancient artefacts that littered the shelves was pungent.  Steve shuddered; the oppressive odour was starting to get to him in a big way.  His insides churned queasily and for once he was pleased to have missed out on lunch.  He longed to breathe in some fresh air.  The sooner he got out of here the better he thought darkly.  

Dr. Schwenk was currently talking on the phone, and had been for at least ten of the fifteen minutes Steve had been in the office.  With ease born from years of practice Steve casually assessed the man with his detective's gaze.  Leaning back in his chair, displaying a patterned waistcoat and pretentious bow tie, Schwenk swept a strand of his overly long and rather greasy hair from his forehead in an obviously dramatic gesture. 

Steve sighed, he just knew that had been perfected in front of a mirror – this guy was out to make an impression.  Unfortunately, with his hooked nose and feral features combined with the small, beady eyes, the overall effect made Steve think simultaneously of the Child Catcher in 'Chitty, Chitty Bang Bang' and some sort of rodent.  He grinned – perhaps not the look Schwenk was aiming for.  The man was currently availing the caller with a seemingly endless list of his professional accomplishments in a pompous, self-satisfied manner.  

'Arrogant and insecure' Steve thought to himself with a grin, this was gonna be interesting.   

Five minutes later, with Schwenk still  showing no sign of ending his conversation, Steve was shifting uncomfortably on the hard-backed chair, his patience dwindling rapidly.  Listening with half an ear he surreptitiously checked out the titles of the books on the shelves - 'The Riddle of the Sphinx', 'Rammasees uncovered', 'The symbolism of the sarcophagus', 'Anderson's compendium of rituals and ruins'.   Steve groaned, his headache returning with a vengeance 'How many aspirins could you take in one day?' he wondered contemplating getting the packet out again.  No doubt whatever the recommended dose, it wouldn't be nearly enough to contend with Dr. Schwenk.

Finally the conversation ended and Schwenk replaced the receiver.  Steve let out a breath – he could get started and then get out of here.  Retrieving his notebook from his pocket he looked at Schwenk, attempting to be pleasant.

'Thank you for agreeing to talk to me Dr. Schwenk' Steve began 'I realise you're busy so I'll try to keep this brief'.

Schwenk drew a pipe from his pocket and lit up 'Go ahead Detective' he proclaimed importantly, leaning back in his chair and contentedly exhaling a perfect smoke ring up to the ceiling  'I'm ready for you now'.

Steve paused getting his temper in check, refusing to rise to the sheer arrogance of the man 'I wanted to ask you about Professor David Summers' he began.

'Oh yes' Schwenk interrupted 'Terrible business.  He had potential – not as accomplished as myself of course, still learning his trade, but a terrible shame all the same'.

'Still learning his trade?' Steve cocked an eyebrow 'I thought Summers headed up this Department – real hotshot by all accounts'.

Schwenk's face darkened momentarily 'Headships are purely administrative Lieutenant' he stated coldly 'nothing to do with one's academic ability.  I got offered the job myself as a matter of fact – turned it down.  I wanted to concentrate on my research, true scholars always do you know'.

'Really' Steve smirked cynically.

'Oh yes' Schwenk continued unabated 'When you're committed to your subject you have to make these sacrifices.  Of course I've had to take on the role now – department needed someone reliable in this time of crisis'.

'Of course' Steve rolled his eyes 'So you're saying Summers wasn't committed?'

'He was a glory hunter, in it for the glamour.  He was always disappearing off on digs looking for buried treasure to make his name – fool thought he was Indianna Jones' Schwenck smiled languorously at his own joke 'Left all the real work to the rest of us.  We'd hardly seen him this semester, in fact he'd only just gotten back from a dig in Cairo when he died'.

'Cairo?' Steve puzzled, something rang a bell but annoyingly his mind refused to co-operate.

'Yes Lieutenant, you know Egypt - pyramids, mummies, the sphinx' Schwenk intoned impatiently, waving his pipe in irritation.

'I know where it is' Steve remarked, struggling to pin down the illusive thought 'It's just that I'm sure I've heard it mentioned somewhere recently'.  He really needed to get some sleep he decided, his mind certainly wasn't functioning at its optimal capacity.

'Well you are in the department of Egyptology' Schwenck continued to patronise 'I'd be surprised if you hadn't'.

'Mmmmh' Steve replied distractedly.  Frustrated he wracked his brain – it'd come to him eventually he knew, but right now he needed to question Schwenck.  Taking a breath he began again 'I you know Mrs. Summers – she also works here?'

Schwenk rolled his eyes 'Oh yes' he intoned salaciously, 'the mysterious Natasha'.

'Mysterious?' Steve prompted intrigued, he'd met Natasha Summers and he hadn't found her particularly mysterious – alluring certainly, exotic no doubt, but not mysterious.

'Well I've always thought so' Schwenk replied.  'She's half Egyptian you know' he added conspiratorially, as if being half Egyptian was incriminating evidence in the extreme.

 'Many people feel she gets a little too involved in her work' he continued slyly 'if you know what I mean'.

Steve was confused 'Not really'

Schwenk leaned closer and Steve was treated to a waft of his rabid breath.

'Lets just say, some feel she has a little trouble distinguishing between legend and reality'.  

Laughing mirthlessly Schwenk continued 'Mrs. Summers has always believed in reincarnation, in fact that was the subject of her doctoral thesis.'  He paused dramatically 'Maybe she and her husband decided to put her theories to the test'.

Steve was speechless for a couple of seconds before snorting derisively, 'Who was it you said has a problem distinguishing between fact and fiction?' he responded dryly, looking at the Doctor with raised eyebrows – god this guy was cheesy, like some Hollywood reject in a two bit B movie.

'You shouldn't mock what you don't understand Detective' Schwenk cautioned 'The ancients had powerful magics at their disposal'.  He indicated the books on his shelves, the titles of which Steve had perused earlier 'There are rituals within the pages of these tomes that supposedly can unleash immense power if the right incantations are performed.'

'Right' Steve agreed rolling his eyes 'And next you'll be telling me not to walk under ladders and to make sure and carry a rabbit's foot with me at all times.  Professor Summers was murdered Doctor – there's nothing supernatural about that. 

'Think what you will Lieutenant' Schwenk replied 'I used to be sceptical myself, but with recent events I've found I've become something of believer'

Steve sighed, Dr. Schwenk was turning out to be a nut, but since when did that disqualify one as a murder suspect?  Add to his apparent mental instability, the fact that the guy was undoubtedly jealous of Summers' academic career and obviously trying to put the heat on Natasha - in Steve's mind Schwenk was fast becoming a prime suspect for murder one.  

But thinking it and proving it were two different things.  From his reading the previous evening he knew Schwenk had an alibi – the Doctor had purportedly been in a meeting with a grad student, Nathaniel Johnson when the two murders had taken place.  Still, Steve thought, it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that grad students could be persuaded to lie on behalf of their superiors.  May be Schwenk had something over Johnson; it was certainly worth checking out.

Leaving Schwenk his card Steve headed wearily back to the parking lot where he'd left the truck earlier in the day.  Dropping heavily into the driver's seat he realised he'd have to call Tannis to get Professor Taylor's address – not a call he was relishing.  He grinned to himself; Detective Archer could be pretty feisty if you got on the wrong side of her.  

'C'mon Sloan' he coaxed himself 'Take it like a man'.  Pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket he dislodged his notebook.  And with the notebook the thought that had been eluding him in Schwenk's office was finally grasped 

'Cairo' Steve said aloud, slamming his hand against the wheel, before stepping on the gas and screeching out of the lot.


	8. Chapter 10

Snapping off her dictaphone Amanda Bentley replaced the hospital sheet, covering the cadaver she'd been working on.  Sighing with satisfaction she mentally congratulated herself on a productive morning and walking to her desk took great pleasure in straightening the testament to her productivity - an impressively large stack of completed autopsy reports.  Glancing at her watch she realised it was almost 2.30pm 

'Boy time flies when you're having fun' she thought with a smile.  

She knew that others found her passion for pathology hard to understand.  To be honest she wasn't sure she understood it herself.  There was just something innately therapeutic about the logical procedures she followed, the tests she carried out, the steps she went through to reach a precise conclusion.  Her work was tangible and methodical, but never dull.  Her acceptance of the County ME's post had increased both her hours and her responsibilities, but it also gave her the freedom and opportunity to develop her expertise.  

Amanda knew that she was good at her job.  The MESSI award she'd been honoured with a couple of months back had served as a public recognition of her ability, but she hadn't really needed external verification.  She knew she had a gift for pathology.  As much as she loved being mother to CJ, her career was so important to her, forming the corner stone of both her self-confidence and sense of identity.  

It was hard juggling motherhood with a profession, but she was doing okay.  It was even harder juggling a love life and she'd been alone for quite awhile before Ron came on the scene.  She smiled, with Ron Wagner there was a chemistry she hadn't felt in a long while.  Sure it was tough having a long distance relationship, but she was willing to give it a shot.  She missed him terribly whilst he was away, but she had CJ and she had her friends.  Mark, Steve and Jesse were always there if she needed them, be it a shoulder to cry on or a last minute babysitter, and she loved them dearly.  She didn't love them in the way that she loved Ron, but she loved them all the same.

            Crossing to the small fridge in the corner of the lab Amanda retrieved her lunch and a carton of juice.  Settling back comfortably behind her desk she pulled the latest copy of 'Celeb Magazine' from her draw, unwrapped her roast chicken sandwich on rye and determined to reward herself with at least half an hour immersed in the love lives of the rich and famous.

            Part way through a story on the latest developments between Tom, Nicole and Penelope, she was startled back to reality by a loud crash, as Steve Sloan tripped over her waste paper basket in his haste to reach her desk.

'Damn it' he cursed, simultaneously rubbing his shin and stooping to retrieve the upended contents of the trash can 'This is just not my day'.

'And a good afternoon to you too' Amanda intoned dryly, raising her eyebrows at his current mood.  She rose to help him, biting back a smile at the clumsiness of his entrance, as she realised he definitely wouldn't appreciate being ridiculed right now.

'Sorry Amanda' Steve sighed, 'Guess I'm a little grouchy today'.  Getting straight to the point he continued 'I need you to go over the autopsy reports on Peterson and Summers again'.

'Have you come up with something?' she asked hopefully.

'Not sure yet' he sighed. 'But I did find out that they'd both visited Cairo in the last few weeks.  It's the first common link I've been able to make'.  He continued hopefully 'I thought maybe there was something in the autopsies we'd missed, some commonality that would suggest one killer as opposed to two'.

'No problem' Amanda replied, looking out the files for him 'Do you know what they were doing in Cairo?' she asked, hoping for more clues.  

'Steve?' she prompted when she failed to receive an answer.  Looking over she noticed his eyes were shut and he was leaning rather heavily against her filing cabinet.

'Are you okay?' She asked with concern placing a hand on his arm 'You look a little pale'.

'Honestly Amanda I'm fine' he protested feeling rather foolish.  It was years since he'd felt light-headed in a path lab – must be the heat.  If Jesse found out he'd never live it down. 'I'm just tired is all and this heat isn't helping'.

Fetching him a glass of water, Amanda eyed him suspiciously 'Steve, when did you last eat?' she asked.

Taking a grateful sip of water he thought for a moment and was surprised to find that he couldn't actually remember.  He knew he hadn't yet eaten today, but had he really skipped out on yesterday too?

'I thought so' Amanda stated accusingly, correctly interpreting his silence. 'Honestly Steve you know better than that' she continued  'how do you expect to solve this case if you don't take care of yourself?'.

'Come on Amanda, it's not a big deal, I'm fine really' Steve sought to assure her with a smile.  'If you'll just go through those reports for me, I'll get out of your hair and you can get back to ….' he peered curiously at the magazine on her desk 'Today in LA  - or whatever it is you're reading.' 

Embarrassed she hastily dumped the magazine back in the draw, before turning back to him, arms crossed and face a picture of determination.  

'Oh no' she stated firmly, 'we're not discussing anything until you get something to eat'.

Steve rolled his eyes; he'd seen Amanda in this mood before.  He knew she had his best interests at heart, but he didn't have time for this right now.  He tried bargaining 'How about we do the reports and then I promise to grab a sandwich on my way back to the station'.

'Not good enough' she stated emphatically, then seeing Steve's face, continued more gently, 'How about I get you some food and we talk whilst you eat?'

Realising this was the best deal he was likely to get, Steve allowed her to steer him to her chair.

'Okay Mister', she instructed, pushing him down into the seat, 'I'm going to the cafeteria to get you today's special and you'd better be here when I get back'.  With that she turned on her heel and marched smartly out of the lab, turning only to give him a final stern look as she reached the door.

Impatient, Steve reached over to the reports on her desk.  Rifling through the pile he quickly located those belonging to Summers and Peterson and settled back to read them.  Scanning the pages he struggled to make sense of both Amanda's writing and the technical terminology.  Feeling his eyelids getting heavy he stood up angrily, determined to make good use of the time whilst he waited for her to return.  Ditching his jacket and rolling up his shirt-sleeves, he gulped down the remainder of the water.  Feeling slightly more alert he turned back to the reports.


	9. Chapter 11

'Steve?' Amanda called, gently shaking his shoulder.  He was obviously exhausted.  His head was slumped forwards onto his chest and autopsy reports were open on his lap, papers spilling on to the floor at his feet.  Evidently he had dropped off whilst trying to read through her files.  

Remembering what Mark had said that morning she considered letting him sleep, but almost immediately thought better of it.  Much as she hated to wake him, she knew that if she left him to sleep all afternoon he'd be mad as hell when he woke up.  No doubt he'd insist on working late to make up for lost time and that would certainly veto Mark's plans for a relaxing evening with his son.  Besides she'd just hauled a plateful of macaroni cheese all the way from the 3rd floor.

'Come on Steve' she raised her voice, shaking less gently this time.

Opening his eyes Steve grunted in surprise, then realising where he was, looked immediately at his watch.

'Don't worry' Amanda soothed, reading his mind 'You've only been asleep for fifteen minutes tops'.  She pushed the tray on the desk towards him and removed the metal cover to reveal a large plate of macaroni cheese. 'Now hand me those files and start eating' she ordered.

Rubbing his eyes, Steve collected up the files and passed them over to Amanda, receiving a fork in exchange.  He had little appetite, but knew he had to humour her if he wanted the reports.  Holding the fork she'd provided in his left hand he obediently began to attack his food, determined to show willing.  

'This tastes great' he said truthfully, surprised to find that once started, he was more than ready to eat. 

'Good' she smiled waving a finger at him 'Now you just make sure you keep eating whilst I'm talking' she reminded, reaching for the first file.

Steve smiled, it wasn't often he allowed himself to be bossed around, especially by a woman, but with Amanda it was different.  In more private moments he'd tried to analyse his feelings for her.  She was definitely attractive, there was no doubt about that – he was a red blooded male and he knew a beautiful woman when he saw one.  And yet the attraction he felt for her was not sexual.  In a way it was much deeper than that.  

Whilst he had never seriously contemplated them as a couple, she was integral to his life and he was honest enough to admit to himself – although not to anyone else, the twinges of jealousy he felt when he saw her with another man.  

He was pleased she seemed to have found happiness with Ron Wagner, and he knew Ron was a decent guy, but deep down he found it hard to share her affections.  He guessed that a shrink would say it was all tied up with losing his mother, but Steve had little time for psychology, particularly his own.  He wrested his attention back to the present and tried to focus upon 'Amanda the medical examiner' as opposed to 'Amanda the woman'.

'Peterson had a pin prick mark on the back of his neck just below his left ear' Amanda was saying authoritatively, having switched fluently into her role as consummate professional.  'The cause was a needle incision made by a hypodermic syringe - part of the needle was still in his neck.  I'd place the time of death anywhere between 8 and 10pm.  His body contained elevated levels of thyroxin, suggesting a massive increase in thyroid activity'.

'So he was killed by an overactive thyroid?' Steve asked swallowing another forkful of macaroni.

'Indirectly yes' Amanda confirmed.  The elevated levels of thyroxin caused an increase in his metabolic rate and his heart couldn't take the pressure.  He died from coronary arrest brought on by the thyrotoxicosis'.

'So he was murdered by an injection of thyroxin?' Steve said slowly as he tried to make sense of the information.

She raised her eyebrows 'Possibly.'

'Come on Amanda, don't hedge with me' he complained impatiently, running a hand through his hair in irritation.

'According to his doctor's notes, Peterson had just been diagnosed with an overactive thyroid' she explained 'The symptoms of an overactive thyroid, or Graves disease, as it's called, are similar to those of stress – increased heart rate, shaky hands, inability to tolerate extreme temperatures, headaches, grouchiness'.  

'Well' Steve said thoughtfully 'that would certainly fit with the bad moods and the shaking hands that his students described'.

'It's not strange that he had elevated levels of thyroxin' Amanda continued, 'but what is strange is how severe his reaction was'.  She frowned 'There was something else in his system that combined with the thyroxin to elevate the attack'.

'And that something was?' Steve prompted

'That's the problem' she shook her head 'I don't know.  We found traces of an organic substance in his blood stream, but it's like nothing I've ever seen before'.  She let out a breath of frustration 'We're still running tests, but I don't hold out much hope'.

'Some kind of poison?' Steve suggested, forking up the last of his food.

'Most likely, but we have no idea what it is or how it works'.  She sighed 'Peterson's thyroid condition makes it harder to isolate the effects of any possible toxin'.

Steve sighed 'So what about Summers?' he prompted hopefully.

'Well he was strangled' she confirmed.  'The burn marks around his neck indicate he was attacked from behind'.  

Amanda chewed her lip thoughtfully 'Again it's strange'

'How?' Steve was intrigued.

'He was big guy' she explained, 'but he didn't seem to put up much of a fight'.

'Well if he was taken by surprise' Steve grimaced 'It can be hard to fight when someone has a rope around your neck – believe me I know'.

'I remember' Amanda looked at him sympathetically 'But you did fight back'.

'Barely' Steve shuddered 'And anyway I was attacked by a woman.  If it'd been a guy I might not have been so lucky'.

'I guess' she conceded 'But there's still something about his death that bothers me'.

'What?' Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. 'Come on Amanda' he groaned 'I'm not in the mood for twenty questions.' 

She paused before continuing 'The fibres from the rope that I picked up on his clothes and around his neck, they're definitely organic, but they're like nothing I've ever seen before'.

'So what are you telling me?' Steve sighed with resignation putting down his fork.

She smiled sheepishly 'That we have two organic substances that I just can't identify'.


	10. Chapter 12

Head resting on the desk in front of her, blonde hair strewn across her face, to all intents and purposes Tannis Archer was dead to the world.  Steve smiled, she sure looked cute when she was asleep he thought and was immediately surprised by this observation.  

'Those better be the supreme ribs you're holding in that bag there Sloan' Tannis growled without raising her head from the desk 'And that better be Travis' famous barbecue sauce I can smell'.

He grinned 'Of course – would I bring anything else?'

'Not with the amount of grovelling you need to do' she replied dryly, sitting up and taking the bag from his hand.  She sniffed appreciatively 'You have to hand it to the little guy, he sure knows how to barbecue'.

'Hey' Steve interjected, pretending to be hurt by the comment 'Jesse's not the only one who knows the secret ingredient ya know.'

'Sloan' she replied sternly 'Now is not the moment for you to expect praise from me.  Now is the moment for you to explain why you've been AWOL all day when we're supposed to be a team'.

Steve smiled sheepishly, as he'd expected she wasn't gonna let him off the hook easy.  He took a breath and let it go as he collected his thoughts. 

'I just thought that whilst I was at the campus it made sense to get on with the interviews.  You know these academics' he hedged 'never around when you need 'em, always at conferences or working from home, I just thought I'd grab 'em while I could'.

She was still looking at him sternly; he wasn't home and dry yet.

'Look Tannis' he continued reasonably 'I know I should have called it in, but we don't have time to make committee decisions, we have a killer on the loose here and we have to move fast'.

'Steve …. ' she began but he cut her off impatiently, his frustration getting the better of him.

'I'm in charge of this case Archer' he snapped  'and if you don't like the way I do things then you don't have to continue.  I'm sure the Chief has plenty of other cases you could work on'.

She sighed.  She wasn't happy with this new 'gung ho' attitude, and it certainly wasn't like him to pull rank, but now wasn't the time to argue.  Steve was tired, she was tired and at the moment this case was getting the better of them both.  They needed to slow down and do some thinking, consolidate their findings so far, plan their next move.  

She knew Steve was desperate to solve this case, needed to feel like he was doing something, but she also knew that sitting down and talking things through was undoubtedly more effective than crashing around like a bull in a china shop.  Under normal circumstances Steve knew this too, but he was pushing himself so hard at the moment that he wasn't thinking straight.  Tannis knew from experience that persuading Steve Sloan to do something he didn't wanna do was nigh on impossible, but she was sure as hell determined to try.

'So' she grinned aiming to lighten the atmosphere 'You got some coffee to go with those ribs?'

Steve relaxed, his temper evaporating as quickly as it had arisen.  He had no idea where that sudden burst of anger had come from; she certainly didn't deserve it.  He had to get a grip before he got kicked off the case himself on the grounds of mental instability!  Grateful for the chance to get their relationship back on equal footing, he broke into a smile.  'I think that can be arranged'.

By the time he'd returned with the coffee she was half way through the ribs; simultaneously licking sauce off her fingers and flicking through the case files.  As he handed her the steaming Styrofoam cup her blue eyes met his own.

'So' she looked at him teasingly 'Given that you left me here drowning in paper work all day, I'm guessing you've got something good'.

Sitting down opposite he tried to steal a rib, but she slapped his hand away.  He gave up.  Sighing he ran a hand tiredly through his hair.  

'I guess the biggest break I got was a possible link between the two victims' he said finally.

Her eyebrows shot up 'That is big' she replied approvingly 'Tell me more'.

'Well' he sighed again 'It's pretty tenuous, but both men were in Cairo just before they died – Peterson presenting at a conference and Summers at a dig.  I don't know if they were together, but it seems a pretty big coincidence'.

'Also' he continued, pausing only to yawn widely 'I got Amanda to go over the autopsy reports again, and there's another link.  Again nothing that would stand up, but it could be a starting point.'

'Which is?' She prompted.

'Well' Steve paused – even to him it sounded pretty thin.  Amanda says that with both victims there were traces of some unidentified organic compound.  She's not sure if it's the exact same compound in both cases, but she's never seen anything like these substances before'.

Tannis was intrigued 'So we think it's one killer?' she asked. 

'Looks that way' Steve confirmed 'different MO but using similar substances, both men in Cairo.  Seems like more than a coincidence to me'.

Tannis chewed thoughtfully 'I agree' she replied finally 'But we still don't know what the motive is, how the two victims were linked nor whether the killer is an Egyptologist or a Chemist'.

'Tell me about it' Steve groaned slumping back in his chair 'Just thinking about it makes my head hurt'.  He smiled ruefully 'There's just so many possibilities, so may leads to follow'.

'So then we have to apply logic' Tannis stated firmly 'Let's be methodical about this'.

Pulling out a blank sheet of paper she grabbed a pen from the desk and divided the sheet in two, heading one half chemistry and the other archaeology.

'Okay' she sighed blowing out the air through her teeth 'Chemistry department – who have we got?'.

Steve massaged his temple, forcing himself to think clearly 

'Maggie Taylor is Peterson's second in command' he replied 'She's taken over the project he was working on.'

'Motive?' Tannis prompted

'Career advancement?' he suggested 'According to those files she's a real high flyer, career type.  He frowned in frustration 'But that wouldn't explain why she'd kill Summers'.

'Forget that for now' Tannis instructed authoritatively.  She looked at him encouragingly 'Who else?'

'Vicky Harris, Peterson's grad student.  She doesn't have a strong alibi for the night of the murders.  But …'

'But what?' Tannis interrupted.

'The girl was like a groupie, a founder member of the Peterson fan club.  And' he continued 'She came here to get a PhD – Peterson's death could prevent that.  Why would she want him dead?'

Tannis chewed on the pen thoughtfully 'Relationships between tutors and grad students can get pretty complicated' she replied 'And you did say groupie – interesting choice of word'.  She grinned 'Groupies can get pretty obsessive ya know'.

Steve shrugged his shoulders 'I'll take your word for it'.  He thought hard 'And there's another student involved – Eric Scott, but I didn't get to talk to him today'.

'Okay' Tannis finished writing 'so that's Taylor, Harris and Scott for chemistry – who do we have for archaeology?'

'Schwenk' Steve shuddered at the memory 'He's now the head of the department.  He's obviously jealous of Summers' academic achievement, so there's the career advancement thing again and he was also trying to incriminate Natasha'.

'Mmmmh Natasha!' Tannis said sardonically eyeing him carefully.

'What?' Steve asked innocently.

'Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at the grieving widow the other night' she replied dryly 'You and every other man in the place'.

Steve grinned 'You know Archer, they say jealousy is a very destructive emotion'.

She pulled a face at him as she added Natasha Summers' name to the list of suspects in what Steve noted were rather overly large letters.

'Finally there's Nate Johnson' Steve continued 'He's another grad student'.  He frowned 'He's also Schwenk's alibi for the night of the murders'.

'You speak to him yet?' Tannis inquired raising an eyebrow.

Steve sighed 'Not yet, but I'd sure like to check out that alibi'.  He scratched his ear thoughtfully, there was definitely something suspect about Schwenk.  Steve's gut was telling him not to trust the guy.  He had nothing concrete yet, but that didn't mean he was wrong.  He grinned at Tannis 'So partner what's our next move?'

'Hmmm' she paused, scrutinising the paper in front of her.  She let out a long breath 'Okay' she said decisively, pushing loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears 'We know both men were in Cairo – right?'

'Right' Steve agreed 

'But we don't know exactly what they were doing there'.  

'Right again Sergeant.' Steve smiled at her 'You know, you're getting real good at this Detective thing'.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at humour, but refused to be distracted 'I think it's time we got to work on our international relations.'  She paused before looking at Steve with a grin 'How's your Egyptian Lieutenant?'

Two hours later and they may as well have been speaking Greek, for all the good it was doing.  Apparently the initials LAPD didn't carry much weight in Cairo.  Tannis threw down her pen and let her head drop to the desk. 

'Please shoot me now so I don't have to wade through anymore red tape' she groaned to Steve.

'Not a chance' he replied dryly 'If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.  We're a team remember.'

Tannis rolled her eyes and didn't bother to dignify that with a reply.

Besides' he treated her to his trademark lopsided grin 'I need all my bullets for those imbeciles at the Egyptian Embassy'.

Tannis grinned 'Good point'.

After being put on hold and then continually redirected through the embassy, it seemed as if between them they had spoken to everyone from the second cousin of the woman who provided the catering, right through to Tutankhamen himself.  And yet for all that work they had very little information.  Apparently in Egypt, Government officials were not free to release details concerning United States citizens, at least not without clearance from above.  And wouldn't you just know that the man in question was in a meeting.  

All they had managed to ascertain was that two men possibly fitting the descriptions of the academics had booked into adjoining hotels and that there was another Westerner, a woman, possibly travelling with them, staying in the same hotel as Peterson.  Apart from that the embassy was remaining tight-lipped.

Tannis sat up and looked at Steve who, still slumped in his chair, was now frowning again. 

'So' she sighed 'I guess today's million dollar question is - who is the mystery woman?'

'If there really was a woman' Steve replied irritably 'We don't even know if the men they're talking about were actually Peterson and Summers.' 

He groaned dropping his head into his hands 'For all we know those officials could have been describing some perfectly innocent tourists on a package tour down the Nile'.

'Whoa!' Tannis interrupted 'Getting a little pessimistic there aren't ya Sloan?'

Steve rubbed his eyes tiredly 'Okay I admit it' he sighed letting out a deep breath before meeting her gaze 'This case is getting to me okay'.  He smiled ruefully at her 'Happy now?'.

'Nope' she said dryly, 'but I do have a cure'.

Steve was sceptical 'Oh yeah?' he asked raising his eyebrows.

'Go home' she said firmly.  'Your Dad called earlier, he's cooking a meal – Travis and Dr. Bentley are arriving, no doubt laden with goodies'.  She waved at him to get up 'Go on, eat, drink and be merry'.

She could see he was about to protest so she stuck her fingers in her ears 'I'm not listening to anything you have to say Sloan so you may as well go'.

Steve smiled, he knew when he was beaten – plus he really could do with a break.  He looked at her serious suddenly 'I'll go' he replied 'If you promise not to stay late.  I'm not the only one who needs some sleep'.

Tannis gave him a mock salute and a solemn face 'I promise, 2 minutes tops and I'm on my way' she replied 'Now get outta here'.


	11. Chapter 13

Humming contentedly to himself, Mark Sloan reached into his well-stocked kitchen cupboard to retrieve the pepper sauce he knew was Steve's favourite.  Adding the sauce to the steaks that were already sizzling nicely on the grill, he nodded with satisfaction.  He was determined his son would enjoy a nice meal and a relaxing evening.  Having spoken to Tannis earlier on the phone, he knew how hard his son was working, and Amanda had told him what had happened in the path lab. 

Momentarily Mark frowned; Steve could be far too casual about his health.  He took it for granted that his body would just keep going for as long as it had to.  Mark knew better.  That's why he'd planned tonight as complete R and R.  He was astute enough to realise that Steve wouldn't willingly take the night off, but he figured that with Jesse and Amanda around they could have a nice meal, some good conversation and may be give Steve a hand with the case.

'Hey Mark' Amanda called as she entered the kitchen carrying two bottles of wine and a large dessert box. She stopped, sniffing appreciatively 'Those steaks smell wonderful.  Is that the pepper sauce?'

'Sure is honey' Mark smiled 'I'm cooking Steve's favourite, you know may be it'll cheer him up a bit'.

'I hope so Mark' Amanda chewed her lip. 'He could really do with a boost right now.  This case is a tough one'.

'Can I get some help here?' Jesse interrupted as he staggered in.  

Turning both Mark and Amanda laughed out loud at the sight that met them.  Weighed down by numerous cans of beer Jesse was involuntarily partaking in some impromptu juggling, his precious cargo perilously close to slipping from his tenuous grasp.

'I hope some of those are for me' Steve smiled ruefully, appearing behind Jesse and relieving him of some of the cans 'I could sure use a beer right about now'.

'Steve!' Mark beamed, relieved that he'd made it home on time, but concerned at how tired he looked  'I didn't hear you come in'.  He motioned Steve to a chair 'Sit down, dinner's almost ready'.

'That's great Dad' Steve replied. 'But do you mind if I grab a shower first?'  He indicated his crumpled shirt 'after today's heat wave I'm feeling pretty grimy'.

'Sure go ahead' Mark told him amiably, 'I'll let you know when it's ready'.

Taking a beer with him, Steve headed downstairs to his own apartment 'I'll be five minutes tops guys I promise.' he called back over his shoulder.

'He looks terrible' Jesse said gravely, and was rewarded by a sharp nudge in ribs courtesy of Amanda.

'It's alright Amanda.' Mark sighed 'You're right Jess, he does look terrible.  And that's why tonight is so important.  We need to give Steve our support, help him with the case, but also help him to relax'.

'Don't worry Mark' Amanda reassured him with a smile 'Tonight is gonna be just what the doctor ordered'.

Downstairs Steve turned the water on full blast and stepped into the shower.  The water felt great and for the first time that day he let himself relax.  He knew he'd been burning the candle at both ends.  He also didn't need anyone to tell him that he couldn't keep up that pace indefinitely.   So far his father had been surprisingly restrained, but falling asleep twice and almost fainting in the path lab wasn't the kind of behaviour that would keep his Dad off his back for long.  

Steve smiled; he knew exactly what tonight was all about.  He hadn't failed to notice that his father was cooking his favourite dinner and there was no doubt that Jesse and Amanda were under strict instruction to make sure he relaxed.  Sighing he turned off the water and reached for his towel.  With the towel wrapped around his waist he headed into the bedroom.  He looked longingly at the bed and was tempted to stretch out for 5 minutes.  Shaking his head he resisted, knowing that if he lay down he wouldn't be getting up again any time soon.  Instead he began towelling himself off and grabbed some fresh clothes from the closet.

Still in the office down town, Tannis yawned widely and rotated her shoulders, wincing at muscles stiff with cramp.  Okay, so it wasn't exactly two minutes since Steve had left, but hey, she justified to herself, he wasn't the only one who wanted to solve this damn case. She hoped he was enjoying himself tonight, forgetting about the case and taking a break with his father and friends. 

She sighed, maybe with Mark on his back; Steve would unwind a little, get some sleep, and be in a better mood tomorrow.  The way he'd snapped at her this afternoon had been worrying, but not exactly unexpected.   She guessed she couldn't really blame him for getting uptight.  This case was like one of those crazy kids games – one step forward followed by three steps back, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

But Steve's behaviour bothered her, she'd seen it before in other cops and she knew if he didn't slow down it could only end in trouble.  Mind you, she thought in amusement, other cops didn't have Mark Sloan as a father.  From what she knew of Doctor Sloan, it was unlikely he'd let his son run himself into the ground.  Steve might be stubborn, but when it came down to it, she was pretty sure which Sloan she'd put her money on in any argument where health was concerned.

The high pitched bleep of her watch broke the silence of the deserted office, reminding her that another hour had gone by.  She sighed guilty, for all her worries about Steve; she was pretty close to the edge herself.  Despite her best intentions, the obsession to crack the case, to stop the crime was powerfully addictive and with Steve so intense, it was hard not to get caught up in the crusade.

 She smiled.  There was something kinda old fashioned about Steve Sloan.  He reminded her of one of those guys in the 1940's westerns her Dad had enjoyed so much, the ones they always re-ran on cable on Saturday afternoons.  He was reminiscent of those old time heroes with the square jaws and the white hats – the ones who ran the bad guys out of town and saved the towns folks' daughters, but always remembered to say 'please' and 'thank you' and knew exactly how to treat a lady.

Tannis had to admit he was pretty different to most of the men in her life.  Involuntarily she winced – looking back; she hadn't always made the smartest choices in the romance department.  Recently there hadn't even been any choices to make.  With the unsociable hours, the possibility of injury or even death on a daily basis and the need to dress more for the rifle range than the catwalk, she guessed it was hardly surprising that guys weren't exactly queuing round the block.  

She sighed, she did love her job and she was proud of her professional achievements – the only woman on Master's task force; that was going some.  She had made it in a field dominated by men and she could hold her own as one of the boys.  But that was just it, she wasn't one of the boys, not really, she was a woman, and in her heart of hearts she wasn't immune to the ticking of the biological clock. Girls she'd known in school were on their second or third babies by now and in her weaker moments she wondered what could have been if she'd chosen a different path.

Tannis frowned, torturing oneself with 'what ifs' never did anybody any good and she rarely indulged in such self-defeating behaviour.  But the young woman in the case today had set her off thinking about her own past - first loves, the thrill of infatuation and of course the inevitable broken hearts.  And that was why she'd stayed so late, even though she'd promised Steve she'd go home early.  Vicky Harris and her 'groupie-like' obsession for Peterson had struck a cord today, taken Tannis back to a time she hadn't thought of in years. 

From her own college experience, she was aware of the potential for staff-student liaisons.  The cynical adult she'd become knew that too many Professors saw preying upon attractive young undergraduates as a mandatory perk of the job.  Naive, impressionable freshman seduced by prestigious Professor then jilted for the next pretty face to walk through the door.  It was an old story.  That was her grown up self talking, but fifteen years ago she'd been that girl.  A fresh faced girl from the sticks wanting to make good, a girl who had given her heart to her college professor only to have it broken almost beyond repair. 

She'd grown-up fast since then and she sure wasn't that girl any more, but she guessed it gave her some insight into Vicky Harris.  Tannis felt certain that Harris was the mystery woman at Peterson's hotel.  She hadn't mentioned her theory to Steve and the possibility of an illicit affair between student and teacher obviously hadn't occurred to him yet.   She smiled, trying to imagine Steve with a crush on one of his professors.  Steve crossing the line, infatuated with an older, married woman?  She couldn't see it somehow; he was far too sensible, his morals beyond reproach – back to the guy in the white hat!  

Had he ever had his heart broken she wondered idly.  Ever fallen madly and inappropriately in love?  She didn't see him as a slave to his emotions, apart from the occasional burst of anger, he kept them pretty much under wraps.  But then what did she really know about his romantic life?  She knew he dated when the job would allow it, but she wasn't sure if he had anyone special right now.  

'And why are you even thinking about it Archer?' she chastised herself.  

Sure she wasn't immune to Steve's charms, but she'd never seriously considered him as anything more than a work colleague and she was pretty certain he'd never seen her in any other light.  She had no idea where this chain of thought had come from, but knew it could mean only one thing.

'Tannis' she told herself firmly 'You really need to get some sleep!'  In the force, when a girl started to contemplate the romantic life of her partner, she'd definitely been spending too much time at the office!

Emphatically closing the files she dropped them onto her desk for the next day.  Checking her watch she saw it was a little after 7.15pm – still early.  Spurred into action she grabbed her bag and coat, determined to listen to her own advice and catch an early night.  The driven mood Steve was in, it might be her only chance until the case was solved.  She needed to be sure that she could keep up the pace.  She'd been here before and knew only too well how easy it was to burn out, how dangerous too.  An exhausted cop was a liability, a danger to herself and her fellow officers.  

Collecting her car from the parking lot she headed for home, thoughts already on a relaxing bath, take away pizza and bed.  Tomorrow they'd tackle Vicky Harris, tonight she was taking a break.  She hoped Steve was doing the same.


	12. Chapter 14

Finishing the last spoonful of apple pie, Steve sighed contentedly and leaned back in his chair.  

'That was great Dad.' He smiled at Mark warmly 'I really appreciate you cooking for me tonight'.

'My pleasure son' Mark beamed.  Holding up the dessert dish encouragingly he attempted to entice Steve into a second helping 'You know there's plenty more pie here if you want it' he coaxed encouragingly.

'No thanks' Steve replied firmly holding up his hand in protest 'Honestly Dad I couldn't eat another thing.'  He added a smile to reassure his father, but Mark wasn't fooled and Steve knew it.  With his usually healthy appetite, refusing second helpings of anything was far too extraordinary to escape his father's attention.

Whilst Mark for once kept his thoughts to himself, and Amanda tactfully pretended not to notice anything unusual, the subtle undertones of the father-son exchange had been lost on Jesse.  Eagerly he pounced on the anomaly.

'Hey Steve are you feeling alright?' He teased, grinning boyishly 'cause if you're refusing second helpings then there's gotta be ….' Suddenly noticing the dark look Amanda was sending his way he realised his mistake and tailed off lamely.

Sensing Jesse was now looking at her desperately and was in all likelihood about to dig himself an even deeper hole, Amanda rolled her eyes – she loved him dearly, but tact was definitely not Jesse's strong point.

'So who's for coffee?' she interjected brightly, coming to his rescue albeit rather clumsily.

'No thanks Amanda' Steve replied 'Think I'll stick with the beer'.  Keen to defuse the suddenly awkward atmosphere he looked at Mark and Amanda and winked 'Since Jesse actually managed to bring real beer for once, I guess I'd better make the most of it.' 

'Hey!' Jesse retaliated.  Relieved to be off the hook, he played along with the friendly teasing and feigned hurt at this obvious affront to his manhood 'I brought light beer once okay, just once.' 

Seizing the opportunity for revenge he comically raised his eyebrows and reached across to pat Steve's midriff with a look of mock disapproval 'And you know that was only because I was thinking of you'.

Steve grunted and Jesse smiled sweetly, before ducking the balled up table napkin that was now heading in his direction.  Mark's eyes met Amanda's, and he knew instinctively that she was as relieved as he was to see Steve indulging wholeheartedly in the adolescent bickering.  Although it couldn't be more than a week, it sure felt like a long time since he'd seen Steve enjoying himself, and that worried him.  He longed to raise the issue with Steve, but knew his son would not thank him for doing so in front of Amanda and Jesse.

Amanda squeezed his hand and imperceptibly nodded her head.  Not for the first time, he was grateful for her implicit understanding.  She grinned at him conspiratorially  'Coffee?' 

'Thanks honey' he replied fondly 'That'd be great'.

With her back to Mark and Steve, Amanda turned to Jesse, signalling him with her eyes to accompany her to the kitchen, in order that Mark could have the privacy he so obviously required.   For once Jesse got the message.

'Er … why don't I give you a hand with that coffee' he offered hastily, treating her to an overly obvious wink that was not missed by either Mark or Steve.  Scrambling to his feet he attempted to adopt an air of casual nonchalance.

 'You know, those coffee filters can be pretty tricky if you don't get …' he  faltered searching for inspiration ' … exactly the right er … consistency?' he finished feebly, before practically running after Amanda.

 Left alone Steve and Mark sat in silence.  From the kitchen they could hear Amanda's voice, berating Jesse for his 'tricky coffee filters' excuse.  They looked at each other and exchanged smiles. 

'Subtle!' Steve commented dryly.

Mark nodded 'As ever!'

Again silence.  Mark waited patiently and eventually Steve let out a long breath.

'Thanks for tonight Dad' he said finally 'Its been just what I needed'.

'I'm glad' Mark replied.  He looked at Steve carefully, before finally broaching the subject they'd all been avoiding 'You know I've been pretty worried about you these last few days.' He paused 'Amanda told me what happened in the path lab'.

'I thought she might' Steve sighed.

'You know its just because she cares about you son' Mark said gently 'We all do'.

Steve sighed, he'd been expecting this, but that didn't make it any easier.  He looked into his father's eyes and seeing the concern knew he had to at least try to justify his recent irrational behaviour.  And yet the words wouldn't come.  Taking another deep breath he looked down at the table and focused intently on the empty dessert dish before him.  As always he felt uncomfortable at the prospect of revealing his feelings.  

Looking at his son Mark knew how difficult this was.  Despite the closeness of their relationship Steve was a very private and self-contained man.  Resisting the urge to prompt, Mark forced himself to wait patiently until Steve was ready to talk.

 'I know that you care Dad' Steve began slowly, still not meeting Mark's gaze 'and you're right I have been pushing myself' he admitted quietly. 

As he talked, he picked self-consciously at the fraying dinner mat and Mark had to strain to hear him. 'And I know I'm not getting enough rest and that I should slow down'.

Finally he looked up and Mark was surprised at the sudden vulnerability etched on his son's face.  'But the truth is, there's a murderer still out there and he's gonna keep on killing innocent people unless I can stop him'. He looked at Mark almost desperately 'and right now he's got a whole campus full of kids to choose from'.

So that was it, Mark thought with sudden understanding; that was why he was working himself into the ground.

 'Steve' he said gently, placing a hand on his son's arm 'You're not responsible for the actions of some lunatic'. 

Irritably, Steve ran a hand through his hair 'I am responsible Dad, I'm in charge of this case'.  He shook his head angrily 'And so far' he continued bitterly  'I'm doing a swell job'.  

'Steve' Mark said reasonably 'I'm sure you're doing the best you can.' 

'Well lets see' Steve said sourly, counting off on his fingers 'First off, the only evidence we've got would never stand up in court'.  

'But it's only been a week' Mark said in surprise 'Don't be so hard on yourself.'

But Steve refused to be pacified, his growing frustration palpable 'Secondly' he groused 'I have Tannis working so hard she's sleeping at her desk.' He shook his head incredulously 'and what do I do?'

Mark shrugged his shoulders questioningly.  

'Today' Steve groaned  'I practically bit her head off over something that was completely my fault'. 

'Oh dear' Mark tutted thoughtfully, pulling a face in sympathy.

'Thirdly' Steve went on sinking ever deeper into a black gloom 'Amanda's got two substances she can't identify and the Egyptian Embassy seem to be going out of their way to make things difficult for us.  And then there's the logistics of Peterson's murder' he groaned again  'don't even get me started on that one!'

'Whaddaya mean?' Mark asked intrigued.

Steve sighed wearily 'Peterson was in a locked lab with no sign of forced entry.  The only possible way in was through a small window on the side'.  He shrugged his shoulders 'But that wasn't big enough for a human to get through'.  Finally Steve cracked a smile 'That window was so small even Jesse couldn't have gotten through it'.

'What couldn't I have gotten through?' Jesse demanded eagerly, as he entered with a tray ladened with cups, saucers, cream and sugar.

'The window of Peterson's lab' Steve explained 'And yet' he massaged the bridge of his nose tiredly 'for someone to insert a needle into the back of his neck they'd have to be within at least arms reach of him'.

'Hey!' Jesse interrupted, spilling the contents of the tray in his excitement 'What about one of those contortionists?'

'What?' Steve looked at him utterly bemused.

'You know' Jesse began eagerly 'those people that can fold themselves into amazing positions – you see them in the circus sometimes.  In fact when I took CJ …'

'Yeah I know what they are Jess.' Steve sighed rolling his eyes 'So what are you saying?' he continued grouchily, 'You think I should put out an APB for all registered contortionists in the California state area?  I can really see the Chief going for that idea.'

'Or it could have been a chimp' Jesse continued unperturbed.

'A chimp?' Steve said incredulously; even for Jesse this was a bit much.

'Absolutely' Jesse replied with complete conviction 'It's amazing what they can train them to do.  I read about it ..'

'On the internet – yeah we know' Steve interrupted, his tone making it clear he doubted the credibility of Jesse's sources.

 'You know that's not a bad idea Jesse' Mark said stroking his chin thoughtfully.

'Oh come on Dad' Steve groaned 'Don't tell me you actually agree with him?'

'I just don't think we can rule out any possibilities at this stage Steve' Mark replied.

'A chimp trained to inject a man with a deadly poison?' Steve asked, by his tone it was evident he thought the whole idea ridiculous. 

'It could work' Mark persisted.

'You know Dad' Steve said with a wry smile 'I've got no choice, I'm gonna have to let you get involved in this case'. 

'How's that?' Mark took the bait, as Steve knew he would.

'Well' Steve continued reeling him in 'it's clear you're in dire need of something to keep you busy'.

Mark was surprised  'How'd ya guess?'

Steve grinned 'Because' he waited a beat before continuing drolly 'you've obviously been spending way too much time with Mr. Internet over there.' 

Mark chuckled as Steve continued 'He suggests a deadly chimp and you're actually considering it?!' 

Feigning seriousness Steve placed a hand on his father's arm and adopted a grave voice 'As your son' he said solemnly, 'I think it's my duty to save you from yourself'.  If we don't catch this in time …' he pointed at Jesse with a grin 'you could end up as nuts as he is!' 

'All right Mark!' Jesse crowed triumphantly.  Totally unfazed by Steve's rather less than flattering comments on his sanity, he proudly slapped his hand against Mark's in a congratulatory high five.

 Steve snorted with laughter and pretty soon the others joined in.

'What's so funny?' Amanda, who had missed the conversation, was intrigued by so much merriment.  Putting down the coffee-pot, she placed her hands on her hips 'Come on guys' she pleaded 'What's going on?' 

Finally regaining his composure, Mark wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled at her weakly.  Steve inclined his head towards a grinning Jesse, and rolling his eyes reassured her that she really didn't wanna know.

Obviously Jesse in his own inimitable way had managed to snap Steve out of his funk.  Amanda smiled; no wonder CJ was so enamoured with the young Dr. Travis – he was a very special guy.  Discretely she shot Jesse a 'thumbs up', before bending to collect up the dirty dishes.

'Here let me help' Steve immediately started to get to his feet.

'No need' she insisted firmly 'You just sit there and take it easy'.

'Aww come on Amanda' he complained 'I'm not an invalid ya know'

'I know' she replied sweetly 'And I intend to make sure that you stay that way'.

Mark smiled, getting up himself to give her a hand 'No point arguing son, you know what she's like once she's made up her mind'.

'Now I know how CJ feels' Steve complained good-naturedly, settling back in his chair and cracking open another beer.

'And you can sit down too Mark' Amanda instructed equally firmly 'You cooked.' She looked pointedly at Jesse.

'Hey' he protested 'I brought the beer!'

'Come on' she ordered, giving him a friendly push.  Privately she grinned – he might be a special guy, but with her even special guys didn't escape the washing up!


	13. Chapter 15

'And then Mrs Porter said' Jesse continued, adopting a feminine falsetto 'Young man, I haven't had a sponge bath since Rudi Waller and I consummated our relationship in 1942.  And that was in the honeymoon suit of the Imperial Hotel!' 

'Noooo!' Amanda gasped, eyes wide and the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips.

'Oh yeah!' he affirmed, pleased at the effect he was having on his enraptured audience 'Then' he continued  'she looked me up and down and said 'You're not a patch on Rudi, but I suppose at my age beggars can't be choosers!'

Amanda shrieked with amusement and Mark chortled heartily.  Clutching at sides now aching with laughter Steve protested 'You're making it up Jess, you've gotta be.'

'I swear it's true' Jesse was adamant.  He grinned wickedly 'That woman has a thing for me – Mark back me up here.'

'Well she is a little eccentric' Mark agreed with a twinkle in his eye 'But I do think you have a habit of bringing out the best in our patients'.

'I'm telling ya' Jesse winked at them  'I had to get out of there quick before she jumped me.' 

Wiping away a tear Amanda grinned mischievously at him 'Soooooo' she teased  'Does this mean I have to tell Susan she's got competition?'

'Funny!' Jesse replied, but before he could respond further Steve held up a hand.

'Susan?' he said pointedly, the raised eyebrow indicating his interest was obviously piqued.  He looked from one to the other 'Okay, what am I missing here?'

'Ooooh you've been way out of the loop' Amanda informed him.  Leaning closer to Steve, she patted him conspiratorially on the knee 'but don't worry, cause I'm gonna catch you right up'.   Indicating Jesse she grinned 'Casanova here has a hot date with Community General's very own Nurse Susan Hilliard' she provided gleefully. 

Leaning back casually, hands nonchalantly folded behind his head Jesse beamed smugly 'Hey – is it my fault beautiful women can't help but fall madly in love with me?'  

Steve smirked giving Jesse a kindly pat on the back 'As long as you believe it Jess' he told the younger man drolly.

Mark smiled.  Settled back in his comfortable armchair, coffee cup balanced across his knees, he was thoroughly enjoying the banter going on around him.  After a shaky start the evening was working out better than he had dared hope. Caught up in Jesse and Amanda's light-hearted teasing and high spirits, Steve was already looking better than he had in days.  Squashed companionably on the sofa between Jesse and Amanda, his blue eyes were sparkling with amusement and that oh so familiar whimsical smile had returned.

Watching the three of them fondly, Mark thanked whatever fates had brought them into his life.  After he'd lost Kathryn and become estranged from Carol, he'd sadly accepted that family life would never be the same again.  He smiled – how wrong he'd been! 

With half an ear on the conversation, Mark's thoughts turned inevitably to the conundrum of Peterson's murder.  How could a man that large get through a window that small?  Jesse's idea of the chimp, despite Steve's scorn, was a possibility.  Mark was aware that circus animals could be trained to perform remarkably complex skills. However it had been done, someone had gone to a hell of a lot of trouble.  Why?  Mark frowned - why not simply poison the man when he was in the cafeteria or jump him in the parking lot?  There had to be something meaningful about the way in which the murder had been committed, but for the life of him he couldn't think what.

'Okay, so forget it for awhile' he chastised himself 'It'll come to you'  - besides he smiled, instead of wondering 'why' it was done, what was more to the point right now was 'how' it was done.  

Stroking his chin, deep in thought, Mark turned over the possibilities – could the needle have been attached to the end of a long pole that could be fed through the window?  He didn't think so - from that distance you wouldn't have enough control of the needle to break the skin.  He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, the simple, repetitive movement helping him to think.  Could there be another entrance to the lab he wondered. 'Maybe' the rational side of his mind responded, but surely Steve would have found it if there were?  

Mark sighed; he hated to admit it, but so far he was stumped.  Slowly his attention drifted back to the conversation going on around him.

'And then' Jesse was saying eagerly 'We whipped back the curtain and there was Jonathan Marsden!'

'That little boy whose brother is in the burns unit?' Amanda queried 'I feel so sorry for his mother - those two boys are such a handful!'

'Tell me about it' Jesse agreed rolling his eyes 'Turns out Jonathan has a pea shooter and he's firing at us!'

Steve grinned appreciatively 'Sounds like just the kind of thing I got up to at that age – remember Dad?'

But his father wasn't listening – in fact Steve realised, he had a rather strange expression on his face. 

'Dad?' he prompted 'Dad, are you okay?'

'That's it!' Mark exclaimed suddenly, bolting upright in his excitement.  The coffee cup tipped from his lap, spilling it's contents onto to the floor at his feet - he didn't even notice 'Jesse you're a genius!' he beamed 

'I am?' Jesse gulped in surprise and then recovered himself and smiled broadly 'I am!' he agreed.

Steve and Amanda looked blank.

'And Jesse would be a genius because ….. ?' Steve was bemused.

'He's got the answer!' Mark said as if stating the obvious.

Jesse grinned proudly at them 'I always do this' he said smugly.  He paused a couple of seconds, before turning to Mark and whispering out of the side of his mouth ' Er .. Mark?  Exactly what answer did I get?'

Mark beamed triumphantly 'I know how Peterson was killed!'

'What?! How?' Steve couldn't believe it. 

Instead of answering Mark held up a hand to stop Steve's inevitable tirade 'Now where did I put it' he murmured to himself and then to the amazement and utter frustration of his son, he headed out of the room. 

'Wait … Dad where are you going?' Steve called after him in disbelief.  Looking at Amanda and Jesse, Steve shrugged helplessly 'I swear he loves to torment me like this' he growled.

Mark returned muttering excitedly to himself.  In his hands he carried a dusty, hard-backed edition that must have been at least circa 1935.  He was already flipping through the pages; his glasses pushed to the end of his nose.  

'It was when you started talking about the pea shooter Jess' he explained 'That's when it clicked'.

'Are you trying to say Peterson was murdered with a pea shooter?' Steve asked incredulously.

'Not a pea shooter Steve' Mark found the place in his book and pointed emphatically 'A blow pipe' he paused thoughtfully  'It wasn't a needle in his neck, it was a dart'.  Looking round expectantly at the others he continued 'And do you know where blow pipes originated?'

'The Middle East' Jesse supplied, remembering Mark's earlier conversation with Jonathan.

'Or to be more precise - Egypt' Mark beamed, holding up his book for their inspection. The front cover displayed the title 'The Civilisation of Ancient Egypt' and was accompanied by a picture of the Sphinx and the Pyramids of Giza.

'Egypt?' Steve asked in confusion 'I still don't see the relevance Dad'.

'Steve' Mark continued patiently, 'Where did you say both Peterson and Summers had been just before their deaths?'

'Egypt!' Amanda interrupted excitedly

Steve looked at him sceptically; arms crossed face a picture of exasperation 'So you're saying I should be looking for an Egyptian?' 

'Not an Egyptian' Mark explained 'an Egyptologist!'

 'But Peterson was a chemistry Professor Dad' Steve protested 'Why would an Egyptologist want him dead?'

'I don't know' Mark admitted 'Why would some one choose an Egyptian weapon to kill him?'  He looked at Steve keenly 'The more I think about it, the more I'm sure the killer had a very special reason for killing Peterson in the way that he did.  Think about it son, why attempt to kill a man in a locked room from a distance of ten feet?  There are so many easier ways of doing it.'  

Jesse nodded enthusiastically 'So what you're saying Mark is that the killer was trying to leave some kind of message – like a calling card?'

'That's exactly what I'm saying Jess' Mark continued eagerly 'This guy wants us to take notice not just of who he's killing but how he's doing it.'

'So the rope that was used to strangle Peterson' Amanda said slowly 'could be an ancient Egyptian weapon too'.  She looked at Mark thoughtfully 'Maybe that's why I'm having so much trouble with my autopsy.  Maybe that's why I can't identify those substances'.  A look of determination appeared on her face 'first thing tomorrow I'm gonna check out everything the medical library can tell me about ancient Egyptian poisons.'

'I hate to put a dampner on everyone's enthusiasm' Steve interrupted 'but this is pretty thin guys.'****

'Steve' Amanda said firmly 'You said yourself that Peterson was in Egypt just before he died – Summers too right?'

 'Right' Steve sighed 'But we have no idea what they were doing there and the Egyptian Embassy are telling us squat'.

Mark took a deep breath and thought out loud 'So, Peterson and Summers are involved in some way we don't know about' he paused, considering 'now that involvement has something to do with Egypt.  Both men were in Egypt just before they died and both men were murdered with Egyptian weapons' he frowned 'Summers was an Egyptologist, and Peterson was a chemist who was killed by an Egyptologist'.

He beamed at Steve 'Well I think it's pretty clear what our next move should be'

'It is?' Steve still wasn't convinced.

Mark grinned  'I think it's time I went back to school' he told them cheerfully 'You know' he smiled 'I've always wanted to learn about ancient civilisations!'


	14. Chapter 16

'Steve what are you still doing up?' Mark asked in surprise, almost dropping the glass of water he'd gotten out of bed for. 

Amanda and Jesse had left a good couple of hours ago and Mark himself had retired pretty soon after.  And yet Steve, who surely needed the rest more than any of them, was still slumped on the couch, a single lamp illuminating the pages of the Egyptology book that was open on his knee.  Although the book was open, he didn't appear to be reading it, instead Mark observed, he was gazing off into the distance, seemingly lost in a world of his own creation.  

At the sound of his father's voice Steve looked round, startled by the sudden intrusion.  Putting down his glass, Mark looked at him with concern 'Are you okay?  It's after midnight you know.' 

'I know' Steve sighed deeply 'And I promise I'm going to bed soon.  I just needed some time to think'

Mark gave him a look 'You know you'll think a lot better after you get some sleep' he said pointedly.

 Steve's eyes met those of his father and he held up his hands in surrender, 'Okay Dad, I get the message'.  He smiled resignedly 'You're not gonna quit badgering me until I put down this book and go to bed are you?'

Caught red handed, Mark grinned sheepishly 'How'd you guess?' 

Steve raised an eyebrow 'Lets just call it police intuition' he replied dryly.  Shutting the book he placed it on the coffee table in front of him and rubbed his eyes wearily.   When he looked up; his face wore the bemused expression that had become characteristic over the last week.  He sighed 'Do you really think Peterson was killed with a blow pipe?'

 'I'll tell you what I do think' Mark admitted 'The Egyptian connection is just too strong to be a coincidence'.  Still sleepy he yawned widely  'The killer is trying to tell us something Steve, I just don't know what it is yet'.

Mirroring the yawn, Steve stretched and ran a hand** through his hair irritably 'You know I've been sitting here for the last two hours going over everything and it just doesn't make any sense'.  He groaned 'The harder I try to work it out, the more confused I get'.  **

Mark smiled sympathetically – he knew it was all part of the process.  Inevitably, it was only by first working through all the wrong answers that you eventually stumbled on the right one.  But he also knew that there were times when you just couldn't see the wood for the trees.  Sometimes if you took a break and came back to it, you'd find that the answer had been staring you in the face all along.  

He opened his mouth, intent upon sharing these words of wisdom with his son, but Steve was preoccupied – the distant look on his face suggested he was deep in thought, a frown suggested that he wasn't enjoying the experience.

'Something in particular on your mind son?' Mark prompted gently.

Steve looked up and let out a long breath 'I just keep on coming back to Dr. Schwenk' he said resignedly.

'An Egyptologist?' Mark asked, dropping heavily into the armchair opposite his son and pulling his dressing gown around him.  Steve obviously had something he needed to get off his chest, and tired as they both were, it was clear that neither of them were gonna get any sleep tonight until he did.

Steve nodded 'Egyptologist and a specialist in the occult' he said meaningfully.

Their eyes met and Mark raised his eyebrows 'You think he could be the killer?'

Steve sighed 'It's probably nothing but …'

'But what?' Mark prompted.  Something was obviously bothering Steve about this man Schwenk, but whatever it was, for some reason he was finding it difficult to put it into words.

'When I spoke to Schwenk today he was trying to warn me about something' Steve said slowly. 'But I didn't pay any attention.' He paused, remembering the cheesy theatrical declarations.  Was he really going to go through with this?

            'Go on' Mark urged.

Steve coughed, suddenly embarrassed.  Looking down at the book in front of him he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.   Finally he met Mark's interested gaze and smiled ruefully.

'Okay' he sighed 'But promise me you won't laugh.'

Bemused Mark nodded.  Steve was obviously uncomfortable, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

'When I spoke to Schwenk today' Steve said slowly 'the guy started talking about ancient rituals and powerful magics.' He paused before finally admitting sheepishly 'I think Schwenk was trying to convince me that the murders are related to the unleashing of some …. I don't know, some dark and mysterious power.'

There he'd said it, he felt ridiculous, but at least he'd got it off his chest.  He shrugged his shoulders and looked at his father 'Obviously I just assumed the guy was nuts' he finished reasonably.

'And now you're not so sure?' Mark had to admit he was intrigued.  Steve was one of the most rational and sceptical people he'd ever met, always had been.   Even at six it'd taken a hell of a lot of persuading to convince him that Santa Claus really did exist.  'You think there could be something in it?'

'No!' Steve scoffed, immediately defensive.  But under the intense scrutiny of his father's gaze he finally cracked 'Okay, okay' he sighed 'I can't believe I'm saying this and I'm only gonna say it once, but …. ' he paused uncomfortably 'you don't really think there could be …..'

'….. something supernatural going on?' Mark finished.  He looked at Steve intently 'Do you?'

There was a moments hesitation, so slight that only a father would pick up on it, and then Steve recovered 'Absolutely not' he said emphatically.  'C'mon Dad' he groaned 'it's ridiculous, forget I even brought it up.' 

Mark didn't answer.

Noting the silence, Steve was suddenly aware that rather than laughing at the absurdity of their current topic of conversation, his father was fascinated by the possibility that they may be dealing with something out of the ordinary.  In contrast to Steve himself, Mark had a penchant for exploring anything magical or mystical.  Any possibility of an unexplained phenomenon, illusion or slight of hand and he was in his element.  Steve had accompanied his father to enough magic shows in the past to realise that this was right up his street.  He groaned, he should have known!

He had no desire to encourage his father's interest in the exploration of potential supernatural forces – not that much encouragement would be required.  Mark's eyes were already sparkling and Steve could almost see his mind working over time, conjuring up endless possibilities for research and exploration.  But noting Mark's ill-concealed excitement, Steve couldn't help but see the funny side.

 The response was so predictable, so familiar, that immediately Steve felt better, his natural cynicism reasserting itself with a vengeance.  Boy, it was amazing what sleep deprivation could do to a guy, he thought, shaking his head wryly.  Up here, alone in the dark with that damn book of his father's; he'd begun to allow his mind to play tricks on him, to entertain all sorts of ridiculous possibilities.  Now, seeing his father behaving exactly as he'd known he would, everything seemed reassuringly normal.  In the light of day so to speak, he couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to get so spooked, even if it had only been for a moment.  

Devoting any time to Schwenk's dire protestations was ludicrous.  Evil incantations, vengeful spirits, ancient curses - they belonged to his childhood, when free time was whiled away engrossed in the latest Saturday morning adventure serials.  Where they did not belong, he told himself sternly, were homicide investigations with the LAPD.

            Still amazed at his own uncharacteristic flight of fancy, Steve continued his thoughts out loud, keen to reaffirm his sound judgement, whilst simultaneously drawing a veil over the whole embarrassing incident. 

'Those stories about alien encounters, flesh eating bugs' he rolled his eyes heavenwards to indicate his obvious scorn 'obviously written by hack reporters with too much time on their hands' he paused and grinned at his father confidently 'Am I right?'

'Right' Mark agreed thoughtfully, although his attention was elsewhere.

'If I can see it, it's real.' Steve said cheerfully.  Warming to his theme, he  blithely failed to notice the lack of conviction in his father's response.

 'It's just an every day homicide, nothing we haven't dealt with before' he continued firmly, nodding emphatically to himself.  'Amanda's re-running those tox screens and I'm sure that this time around she'll be able to …..'

 'You know' Mark interrupted thoughtfully, finally coming out of his reverie 'there are definitely things out there that modern science still can't explain.'  

Steve groaned, his good mood deflating rapidly 'Oh come on Dad, don't go all Fox Mulder on me now.'

'Steve' Mark persisted seriously 'I see it all the time in medicine.  Sometimes things just happen, and as much as we'd like to we can't find a satisfactory explanation'.

Steve groaned 'There's nothing mystical about it Dad, you just don't have the technology yet' he smiled assuredly 'And once you do, mystery solved'.

'Why are you having such a hard time with this?' Mark asked 

'Why are you not?' Steve threw back 'Come on Dad, I can't believe you're taking this seriously'.  His father was a trained scientist, a specialist in modern medicine.  How could a man with his experience and qualifications, be taken in by hokey superstition and folklore?

Mark refused to rise 'Steve' he said patiently 'Have you ever really read anything about Ancient Egypt?' 

Steve was bemused 'Aside from this book?' he joked, then realising his father was being serious, decided to humour him 'Not since grade school – why?'

'Well' Mark let out a breath 'There are so many mysteries still to be solved – for instance we have no idea how they managed to erect those magnificent pyramids. The man power it would have taken, not to mention the logistics - given the technology available at the time it was surely a physical impossibility' He smiled wistfully 'And yet there they are!'

As much as he was willing to indulge his father, Steve certainly wasn't in the mood for a history lesson, he raised his eyebrows inquiringly 'And your point would be?'

'That sometimes we have to accept that there are things we don't fully understand.  But just because we don't understand them doesn't mean that they don't exist and that they can't affect what we do'.    Mark looked at his son keenly 'Steve, Ancient Egypt was a civilisation built upon beliefs in the supernatural and the power of the unknown.  The culture is riddled with curses, which if triggered, are said to invoke the wrath of the gods.  The native people went out of their way to ensure that they were protected'.

'Dad, are you really trying to tell me that you think Peterson and Summers stirred up the wrath of the gods' Steve was nonplussed 'May be I'm not the one that needs to get some rest here' he muttered meaningfully.

Overhearing, Mark smiled 'May be' he agreed  'But you know there are many people, including learned scholars, who believe that, that's exactly what happened to Lord Carnarvon when he excavated the tomb of Tutankammen'.  He paused thoughtfully 'What I'm trying to say is that perhaps Peterson and Summers stumbled upon something in Cairo that they shouldn't have'.  He paused solemnly 'Perhaps they disturbed something that they shouldn't have disturbed'.  

Reaching the end of his rather sombre tirade Mark beamed cheerfully 'You know, I think tomorrow I'm gonna read up my Egyptian curses!'

Steve sighed shaking his head ruefully.  When his father was in this kind of mood there was no reasoning with him.  Right now he was way too tired even to try.

 'You do that Dad' Steve said wearily 'Me, I think I'd better go have another talk with Dr. Schwenk' he yawned again and catching his father's eye added hastily 'right after I get some sleep.'

Mark smiled and getting up from the armchair patted Steve on the shoulder, 'Don't stay up too late son, you really need to get some rest.'

'Don't worry Dad' Steve groaned, finally letting his head loll back against the couch 'I'm going to bed right now' He smiled 'Besides, after all the food and drink you plied me with tonight I can hardly keep my eyes open.'

Mark grinned 'That was the plan!'  Picking up his glass of water he headed back towards his bedroom 'Night son.'

Steve smiled 'Night Dad.' 

Pushing himself up from the coach, Steve clambered to his feet and stretched, yawning widely.  Catching sight of the impassive face of the sphinx on the book's front cover, he smirked, 'Ancient curses! Wrath of the gods!' he muttered under his breath, 'Yeah, right!' He grinned; next his father would be trying to convince him that Santa Claus existed.  Meaningfully he turned the book over, so the sphinx was face down on the coffee table.  Shaking his head ruefully he made his way downstairs to his apartment below.

Two hours or so later and Mark Sloan rolled over in bed - something had awoken him.  Surely Steve wasn't still up?  As he became more alert he realised it was the telephone in Steve's apartment downstairs.  Groaning Mark waited for Steve to answer, but the ringing continued insistently.  He switched on the bedside light, blinking against the sudden brightness and picked up his watch from the chest of drawers.  

'3am!' he sighed 'So much for Steve getting a decent night's sleep'.  As it was becoming apparent that the caller wasn't gonna quit, Mark struggled into his dressing gown and slippers and stumbled downstairs 'Steve must really be exhausted to sleep through this' he muttered to himself.

'Dr Sloan' he spoke into the phone.

'Mark?  It's Tannis'

'Hi Tannis' Mark said in surprise.  He yawned 'What's going on?'

She was all business 'Sorry to disturb you this late.  Is Steve there?'

'Yeah, honey he's sleeping' Mark told her.

'Lucky him!' Tannis replied dryly 'My night has been a little less peaceful'.

As she filled him in on the details Mark winced.  Once Tannis had rung off, he sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly.  Replacing the receiver he reluctantly headed towards Steve's bedroom.  Pausing at the door he could hear his son's breathing, slow and regular, a sure sign that he was in a deep sleep.  Quietly Mark entered, pausing for a moment just inside the door.  

The light from the hallway cast shadows across the room, illuminating Steve where he lay.  Lying on his back with one arm resting across his chest, the other flung out to the side, the posture was open, relaxed and utterly unguarded.  Mark smiled; in sleep Steve was a complete contrast to his waking self.  

He was all too aware that his son had a tendency to bottle things up.  Although he respected Steve's privacy and would never impose, he often worried that his son kept too tight a reign on his emotions; his defences forever up.  Jesse, Amanda and Mark himself had all come to depend on Steve's strength, but he seldom chose to unburden himself.

  Noticing Steve's powerful shoulders prominent against the down pillows, and so different to his own physique, Mark chuckled softly to himself 'the strong, silent type' that's how he'd heard the nurses at the hospital describe his son.  To Mark the description was apt.  He was aware that Steve was considered quite a catch.  He'd seen female heads turn when his son graced the corridors of Community General.  That Steve seemed refreshingly unaware of his effect on women, Mark had no doubt only added to his appeal.

He sighed, Steve looked so peaceful he was loathed to drag him back to the gruesome reality Tannis had described on the phone.  Still Steve was no longer a child for him to protect.  These days their roles had reversed and it was much more often Steve who protected him.  Approaching the bed Mark softly called Steve's name, his son was a cop and he had a job to do - besides Tannis was waiting.

In the depths of sleep Steve slowly became aware of a familiar voice calling his name.  Irritably he turned over, hoping fervently that whoever it was would leave him alone.  'Steve!' The voice was more urgent now.  With great effort, as if swimming through treacle, he tried to force himself to focus on the voice.  A sudden firm hand on his arm made him flinch, jerking him awake.

'Sorry son' Mark apologised 'Didn't mean to startle you'.

'Dad?' Steve asked in alarm, then realising Mark was in no immediate danger mumbled in confusion 'What time is it?'

'Just after 3' Mark sighed sympathetically 'Sorry Steve, but Tannis just called'

'Archer called here?' Steve blinked in surprise 'I didn't hear the phone ring'

'No well, you were in a pretty deep sleep' Mark said gently.

'I must have been' Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and privately wondering exactly how many beers he'd sunk to make him crash out like that.

'It's hardly surprising son' Mark stated 'You were exhausted'.  He sighed  'I just wish I could have let you sleep, but I'm afraid it's bad news' he paused 

'There's been another murder.'  

Author's note: Having read this through I realised that some people might mistakenly interpret some of the content of this chapter in relation to religious beliefs – please don't.  I'm not trying to make any comments about religion; this is just a story, so I hope no one is offended!   Thanks to everyone who is reviewing and please keep reading!


	15. Chapter 17

Pulling up at the crime scene Steve and Mark exited the vehicle and headed towards the small army of cops who swarmed like ants around the archaeology department.  Despite the intense heat of the day, the night air carried a chill and both men wore jackets.  Steve's hands were jammed in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched as he glanced moodily at the scene before him.  Thoughtful, Mark followed, his shrewd eyes alert for the tiniest detail - anything that might shed light on exactly what had taken place in those twilight hours before dawn.

'Sloan, homicide' Steve brusquely informed the young officer on duty, automatically flashing his badge.  Sensitive to both Steve's current mood and his seniority, the young man swiftly acquiesced and they were waved through.  Climbing over the yellow police tape that sealed off the building the two men entered the fray.

Almost immediately Steve spotted a familiar figure amongst the chaos.  Even from a distance he could tell that Tannis Archer was harassed.  She wore minimal make-up and for once her regulation trouser suit was crumpled.  Her blonde hair was escaping from her habitual ponytail, but she didn't seem to notice or care.  He smiled – how different she was to most women in LA, the wannabe actresses whose lives were ruled by the mirror.  A cell phone was jammed to her ear, whilst she simultaneously barked orders to the numerous uniformed officers in the vicinity.  He was about to head in her direction when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder – it was his father.

'Steve' Mark called 'I'm gonna go look for Amanda, see if she's found anything.'  As a medical man the body was his priority, his area of expertise.  Mark knew that to a skilled ME like Amanda, a corpse could tell a million tales.  Morbid it might be, but as medical consultant, an examination of the body was undoubtedly where he could make his biggest and most immediate contribution.

 Steve nodded wearily 'Go ahead Dad, 'I'll catch you up'.  Reaching Tannis in a few long strides he let out a breath 'Okay Archer, what have we got?'

She turned to face him, looking as tired as he felt 'You know I was really enjoying my night off' she groaned, rubbing a weary hand across her eyes 'I had plans and it was all going so well.'  She smiled ruefully 'a hot bath, a little pizza, some trash on the tube.  Hell, I was in dreamland by 9.30 and then I get a call from the Chief'.  She rolled her eyes, a touch of irony in her voice 'Spending my evening with a corpse wasn't exactly what I had in mind!'

'I know' Steve agreed sighing heavily 'But hey it's what they pay us for right?'

'Do you ever wonder if they pay us enough?' she asked dryly.

He smiled 'All the time.'

'Well' Tannis let out a breath 'Dr. Bentley is still examining the body, but we really don't need an ME to tell us that he died from a stab wound to the heart' she paused wrinkling her nose 'the knife was still in his chest when the porter found him'.

'Ouch' Steve winced 'That had to hurt!'  

'Ouch is right' she agreed.

'So whadda we know so far?' he asked raking a hand through his hair tiredly.

'Well' she let out a breath 'Porter found the body about two hours ago.'  She smiled ruefully 'Poor guy got quite a shock.  He was just locking up to go home – didn't even know there was anyone in the building.  He saw a light on, went to investigate and found the professor on the floor, skewered with a fifteen-inch dagger.'  

She sighed and motioned with her head towards an ambulance where an athletic looking man was being checked over by an EMT 'You can go talk to him if you want, but I gotta tell ya he's pretty shook up.'

Steve groaned, from past experience he knew he was unlikely to get anything useful out of the man – at least not yet.  Not that he could blame him of course. Although he hadn't yet seen the body himself, he could imagine quite vividly the gruesome nature of the porter's discovery.  As a homicide cop Steve had seen plenty of murder victims, but he couldn't say he had ever truly gotten used to it, or ever would.  Sure it was a while since he'd lost his lunch, but that sick feeling in the pit of the stomach never went away.  The taking of a human life by force carried with it a chill that permeated even the most hardened of cops.

'Hey Sloan!'

Steve groaned again as he recognised the voice of John Wyatt, accompanied no doubt by his wise ass partner McBride.  He rolled his eyes and exchanged a knowing look with Tannis 'And just when we thought it couldn't get any worse …' he muttered.  She responded with a pained smile and a loud sigh.

'Well hello there Lieutenant, Sergeant' Wyatt greeted them amiably.  The sarcasm behind his excessive bon hommie was not lost on either of them.  Playing his role to the hilt, Wyatt took a deep and invigorating breath and beamed at them 'It's so good to see ya both on this mighty fine morning' he sighed contentedly.  'And I gotta say it sure is great to be here – hell, I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be'.  He turned to his partner 'How about you Cal?'

'Nope John, can't say that I can.' McBride sniggered appreciatively and Tannis rolled her eyes.

'Something we can do for ya guys?' Steve asked shortly.  His tone was none too friendly, irritation bubbling just below the surface.  Tannis could read the warning signs already.

'Oh I don't know Sloan' Wyatt pondered, raising his eyes as though deep in thought 'Whaddaya think Cal, is there anything Lieutenant Sloan here can do for us?'  Playing along McBride shrugged.  Tannis bit her lip; she knew Wyatt and McBride of old and had a pretty good idea of where this was going.  Glancing at Steve she could sense the barely controlled anger, the man was a volcano and any minute he was gonna blow.

'Steve …' she interrupted

'Just a moment Sergeant' Wyatt was relentless 'Lieutenant Sloan and I were just in the middle of a little ole conversation here.'  He smiled benignly, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes 'Now where were we Cal?'  

'I think Lieutenant Sloan was asking what he could do for us John' McBride supplied with a smirk.

'That's right!' Wyatt continued.  Looking at Steve he went on sweetly 'Now that you come to mention it Sloan there is something you could do for us'.  He paused 'Here it comes' Tannis thought worriedly.

The overly friendly smile was replaced by a smirk, the pseudo 'chit chat' now a sarcastic accusation  'You know, you could do your damn job and get on and solve this case'.  He indicated his partner 'That way me and McBride here wouldn't get dragged out of our nice warm beds at 3am, and in my case outta the arms of a feisty brunette, to come down here and cover your ass!'  He grinned  'So what's the problem Sloan?  Case too hard for you, or is it too much action with Sergeant Archer over there?' He leered at Tannis 'Have to admit if she was my partner I'd be distracted too.  I'll bet she's a real animal …..'

He got no further as Steve's arm had shot out, right hand gripping him by the throat, left balled into a fist ready to deliver the silencing blow.

'Steve no!' Tannis moved quickly to get between them.  Immediately McBride shifted behind Steve, ready to back up his partner if the need arose.  Tannis held her breath.  For a moment the two men were seemingly frozen in time, a grim tableaux in the early morning light.  And then Steve let go.   Turning abruptly he left them in his wake, hearing neither Tannis' call for him to 'Wait up' nor the derisive mutterings of the other officers.

'Good going guys!' Tannis turned on them, her voice dripping sarcasm.

'Hey' Wyatt held up his hands protesting innocence 'We were just having a bit of fun.  Jeeze is it my fault the guy can't take a joke?' Dusting himself off he turned to her, a glint in his eye 'Your partner's a psycho Archer, he's lucky I don't report him, attacking me like that'.

Tannis looked at him coldly 'Don't even think about it John, because if you do I'll make sure the Chief gets to hear all about that little gambling syndicate you own a piece of down in Venice'.  She grinned malevolently as his faced paled 'You know the one I mean dontcha John?'  She paused meaningfully 'The one without the licence'.  Leaving him to ponder the implications she turned and glared at the uniforms who were openly ogling the spectacle 'Show's over boys' she barked irritably 'Get back to work'.   

Shaking her head she left them to it, heading off in search of Steve.  As she walked, much as she tried to ignore it, a little voice reminded her that was the second time he'd lost it in as many days.

'Boy she's good' McBride whistled appreciatively.

Wyatt grinned and raised his eyebrows 'And hot!

'You, buddy, have a one track mind and a talent for getting into trouble' McBride complained good-naturedly.

Wyatt smirked 'Hey! It's why you love me.' he joked.

'That's as may be' McBride replied 'But if you've got any sense you'll stay away from Sloan for awhile' he looked at his partner suddenly serious  'he was damn near gonna kill ya'.

'Hey' Wyatt grinned with mock confidence, although his shaky voice gave him away 'You had me covered right?'

'Come on' McBride rolled his eyes 'I'll buy you a coffee'.

Leaning against the wall, eyes closed, Steve took several deep breaths as he waited for the pounding in his head to slow.  Unclenching his fists, his hands shook with the residual tension from the adrenaline that had rushed his system.  He groaned 'What the hell had just happened?'  Sure McBride and Wyatt were a pain the ass, but they were nothing he couldn't handle – he frowned, usually.  Tonight they'd hit a nerve, tapped into his own insecurities about the case and his lack of progress.  He was going nowhere fast and now another murder had been committed right under his nose.  He sighed; it felt as though the killer was toying with him, taunting him with partial clues and inconsistencies.  The frustration was killing him.  The crude comments about Tannis had been the final straw and he'd snapped.

From his refuge in the shadows he caught sight of her and groaned again.  It was obvious she was looking for him.  She had every right to be mad, the way he'd behaved.  If it hadn't been for her he'd be in a whole lotta trouble right about now.  He paused – may be he still was?  If Wyatt reported the incident he'd be hauled into the Chief's office and …. well, he didn't even wanna think about it.  He knew he should talk to her, but he was in no mood for a lecture.  Pressing back into his hiding place he waited until she'd passed, then turned and hung a right, entering the archaeology building.  He sighed; he hoped his father was having a better night.


	16. Chapter 18

In the cluttered office, Mark and Amanda were bent over the body deep in discussion.  All around them uniformed officers went about their business, but the two doctors paid them no attention, so intent were they upon the task at hand.  Finally, sitting back on her haunches, Amanda brushed her hair from her forehead and let out a breath.

'I can't be sure Mark but the residue on the body looks and smells awfully similar to the substances found on the other two victims'.

'And you say you still have no idea what those substances are?' he asked dropping into a near by chair, deep in thought.

'Nope' she sighed 'but working back from your Egyptian connection I guess they could be indigenous to an ancient civilisation'.

'You know I've been thinking about that' Mark replied eagerly 'From what I know of Egyptian burial rituals, often the bodies were adorned to prevent the ghosts of the dead returning to cause trouble.  You know' he continued eagerly 'sometimes they even put letters in with the dead person, to protect themselves from vengeful spirits'.

'Really?' Amanda was intrigued 'Well I don't see any letters Mark, but do you think may be the killer was trying to protect him or herself by anointing the body?'

He sighed 'At the moment honey I don't know what to think'.  He paused momentarily and then looked at her ruefully 'You know Steve would think I was crazy for saying this, but I can't quite shake the feeling that it could be something …'

'Supernatural?' A familiar voice interrupted 'Come on Dad, don't start that one again'.  Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded Steve Sloan looked half irritated, half amused.  'Don't listen to him Amanda he's got this crazy idea that Peterson and Summers stirred up the wrath of the gods or Tutankhamun's curse or something.'

Amanda looked from one to the other in confusion 'But wasn't Tutankhamun's curse a hoax invented by the press?' she asked with a puzzled frown.

'My point exactly' Steve said emphatically, shooting his father a meaningful look.

'Well you know several people connected with the excavation did die in a short space of time' Mark persisted 'Carnarvon himself died from an infected mosquito bite that he got whilst he was in the tomb'.

'Fascinating' Steve said sardonically 'But you know Dad, I think your divine intervention theory could be a mute point'.  He smiled ruefully 'Since the guy who suggested it is at this moment lying on the floor with a knife in his chest'.

All three looked down at Schwenk and Steve sighed morosely – so much for having another talk with the guy.  The only information he was gonna get out of Schwenk now, was what Amanda could tell him in the autopsy report.

Mark was less easily defeated 'That's true' he allowed 'But you know there is something we haven't yet considered'.  He smiled at the quizzical expressions that greeted him.

'Well come on Mark' Amanda pleaded 'don't leave us in suspense'.

'The knife in his chest is Egyptian' Mark announced triumphantly.  He beamed and motioned Steve to take a closer look 'See you can tell by the hieroglyphics on the blade'.

Steve smiled patiently 'You know Dad, that'd be pretty neat if it weren't for the fact that there's a whole bunch of these knives in one of the cabinets down the hall'.  He rolled his eyes 'In fact there's a real nice spot in the cabinet that's empty right now, on account of the fact that the knife that used to be there …' He gave Mark a meaningful look 'is here'.  

Looking at his father, a slight smile playing around his lips, Steve shrugged 'I gotta say, for the wrath of god I'd expect something a little less convenient – Dad, Schwenk was killed with one of his own knives'.

'Poetic justice?' Mark offered hopefully 'It happens in fables and legends all the time.'

Steve groaned – once he had something in his mind, his father could be incorrigible, but then he wouldn't have expected anything else.  Still as a cop he dealt with facts not fairy tales.

'Dad' he said with an exasperated sigh 'I hate to destroy your theory, but since when did the wrath of god need a key to get in?' Pushing himself away from the door, he retrieved an evidence bag from his jacket pocket and held it up for their inspection 'Key chain' he explained 'Forensics found it in here two hours ago'.

'Oh' Mark let out a breath, finally stumped.

'Nice try Dad' Steve said with a whimsical smile 'but no dice'.  Turning to Amanda he looked at her pleadingly 'May be you can give me something a little less other worldly?'

'Well' she sighed  'Given the temperature and the humidity of the room, I'd say he's been dead for approximately 5 hours'.  She checked her watch 'Which would put time of death at around 11 o'clock to 11.30.' 

Leaning forward she pulled aside the remnants of the victim's shirt before continuing  'As you can see he died from a stab wound to the heart, but there is also some evidence of bruising across the upper arms'. 

She paused thoughtfully 'Now the bruising would suggest that he was pinned down by the killer when the stab wound was inflicted.  Apart from that, there was no real suggestion of a fight, so I would guess that he knew the killer and wasn't expecting any trouble'.  

'Anything else?' Steve asked tiredly.

She sighed 'Well the body seems to have residual traces of an unidentified substance'.  

'Like the last two' he said resignedly.

'That's right' she confirmed 'We've done a tox screen and the samples have been sent to the lab but … ' she looked down despondently 'If it's anything like the other substances, then I'm not sure the tests will do any good'.

Steve massaged his temples wearily, trying to take in the information she'd presented him with.  The air in the room was thick and tinged with a scent that was hauntingly familiar and yet unidentifiable.  Whatever it was, it was making him feel drowsy and light headed  – or was that merely a symptom of the sleep deprivation he'd endured over the last week.  Suddenly unsteady he sat down on the edge of Schwenk's desk and took a deep breath.

'Are you okay?' Mark asked instantly, as ever alert to his son's physical condition 'You look a little pale'.

'I'm fine Dad' Steve replied irritably 'It's just a little warm in here that's all'.

Mark and Amanda exchanged worried glances 'You know' she said gently 'the same thing happened in my pathology lab yesterday'.

Steve responded with a smile that he hoped was reassuring 'I'm fine, honest'.

'I think we could all do with some sleep' Mark interrupted firmly.

Steve sighed 'Good idea.'  

He really didn't want his father missing out on any more sleep than was absolutely necessary.  Although Mark would undoubtedly protest, Steve knew his father was getting a little too old to spend half the night at a crime scene and still manage his work at the hospital.  Looking at his watch Steve turned to Amanda 'Amanda why don't you go home, there's nothing more you can do here right now' he paused before adding casually 'And can you give Dad a ride too?  I'm gonna be tied up here for a while'.

'You're not coming with us?' Mark asked.

Steve sighed 'Not a chance, but there's no need for us all to be here' he looked at Amanda for support 'So Amanda if you wouldn't mind ….'

She met his eyes and immediately understood 'Sure Steve, no problem' she replied straightening up.

'Steve I don't need a ride' Mark protested 'I'll stay here with you'.

Steve smiled, he'd been expecting this 'Dad, it's already 4.30 in the morning and I've no idea what time I'll be done here' he replied reasonably.  

Spotting the stubborn glint in his father's eye, he went for the one thing he knew would win Mark over 'Think about it Dad, you've got a shift at the hospital in a couple of hours' he paused 'and I'm sure your patients would prefer it if you were awake'.  

Mark was trapped and Steve knew it.  As much as he longed to stay, he would never do anything that could put his patients at risk.  Sensing victory Steve continued reasonably 'If you want I can fix it for you to come back and check out the crime scene another time'.

Finally giving in Mark let out a breath 'I guess you're right'.  

As Steve escorted Amanda and his father to the door Mark turned hopefully 'but you'll ring me if you find anything?'

'Scout's honour' Steve replied with smile, treating Mark to a mock boy-scout salute.

It was only when they reached the parking lot that realisation dawned.  Turning to Amanda, Mark groaned 'You know I just remembered he was never in the scouts!'

Amanda smiled – for once it was round one to Steve 'Come on Mark' she said fondly placing an arm round his shoulders 'Lets go home'.


	17. Chapter 19

Yawning widely, Mark poured the water on to his coffee and gave it a quick stir.  Sitting down at the table he absentmindedly opened the morning newspaper, skimming the headlines.  Taking a sip of the coffee he grimaced – it was stone cold!  He'd forgotten to boil the kettle! 'You're getting old Mark' he told himself with a wry smile.  He yawned – certainly too old to get up in the middle of the night and go chasing off to a crime scene!  

He knew Steve worried about him, but when there was a murder to solve he just couldn't resist.  Already he'd planned on asking Jesse to cover, so he could return to the campus and take a good look around.  He was itching to get started, there just had to be some clue as to who was behind this.  The killer was working to a pattern, he was certain of that, and despite what Steve believed, all his instincts told him that if they looked into supernatural rituals and beliefs they'd find some sort of explanation. It was just a case of where to start -  who to talk to?  

A noise at the door startled him from his reverie.  He looked up in surprise. 

'Hey' Steve sighed wearily as he entered the kitchen. 

'Hey' Mark replied with a smile, then looking at his watch 'Is this you just getting in?' he asked incredulously.

'Uh huh' Steve groaned collapsing into a chair opposite his father 'I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open' he admitted.

'Well I hope you've come back here to get some rest' Mark said sternly

'Don't worry Dad' Steve smiled ruefully  'Bed sounds pretty good right now' He rubbed eyes that were itchy with fatigue 'I've given Tannis the rest of the day off and I'm gonna grab a couple of hours sleep before I head over to the hospital, check in with Amanda'.

'I'm glad to hear it' Mark replied, unsuccessfully smothering a yawn.

'Hey', Steve interrupted with concern 'Seems like I'm not the only one who could do with some sleep'.

'You know, you're absolutely right' Mark agreed 'I'll see if I can get off early today – maybe Jesse'll cover for me'.

'Good idea' Steve replied through a yawn of his own, moving his hand to support his head, which suddenly seemed way too heavy to support itself.

'And on the way home' Mark continued casually 'I thought I might call in at the University and  ….'

Steve looked up sharply 'Since when is the University on the way home?' he asked, shaking his head wryly.

Mark smiled sheepishly 'I just have a few things I wanna check out and then I'll come straight home'.

'Mmmmh' Steve replied, raising his eyebrows.  He didn't believe a word of it, but was too tired to argue.

'Anyway' Mark changed the subject smoothly 'I have to get to the hospital, but .. '  he looked at his son with fatherly concern  'do you want some coffee or something to eat before I go?'

'No thanks' Steve replied 'I think I'm just gonna go straight to bed.'  He groaned 'Just as soon as I can work up the energy that is'.

'Did you find anything interesting last night?' Mark asked hopefully.

'Not really' Steve sighed 'I spoke to Anderson, the porter who discovered the body, but he was pretty shook up'

'Mmmh' Mark nodded sympathetically.  He didn't envy the man his gruesome discovery.  Even forewarned as he himself had been, Schwenk's corpse had been a grotesque sight.  To stumble upon it unsuspectingly – he sighed; undoubtedly it would be something that would haunt the man for the rest of his life.

'Anyway' Steve continued 'Last time he saw Schwenk alive was around 9.30pm. Seems that academics often work late, so there was nothing unusual in Schwenk being around out of office hours'.  

Turning to Mark he sighed heavily 'As far as he knows there was no one else in the building.  Nate Johnson and Natasha Summers had both been in the department earlier on, but they'd left around 8 o'clock.  His shift finished at 1.30am so he went back to check on Schwenk, and that's when he discovered the body'.

  He shrugged his shoulders defeatedly 'So far we have no suspects – no one we can actually place in the building at the time when the murder was committed'.

Mark stroked his moustache thoughtfully 'So it's another conundrum, like the Peterson killing?'

'I guess' Steve groused 'We do have the key chain – it belongs to the porter, but he says it went missing some time after 9.30pm'.  He looked at Mark meaningfully 'Along with his keys'.

Mark raised his eyebrows 'Now that sounds promising'.  

But Steve refused to be shaken from his black gloom 'Don't get your hopes up yet  Dad' he warned.  'It sounds promising until you consider that he could have dropped the keys at 9.30pm, the first time he saw Schwenk and they could have just laid there until forensics picked them up'.

''Did the porter see or hear anything unusual?' Mark asked thoughtfully.

'Apparently not' Steve replied dolefully 'Seems he's also responsible for a couple of the other buildings, so he wasn't even in the archaeology department round about the time the murder took place'.  He sighed  'He's gonna give me a list of the people who were there last night though, the times they arrived and left'.

'What about finger prints?' Mark continued.

'None on the knife' Steve said bitterly 'But numerous sets in the office'.  He let out a breath 'We're having them analysed, but I doubt they'll give us anything'. 

He looked at Mark, blinking tiredly 'We're getting Schwenk's phone records too – it's a long shot, but just may be if we could find out who he's been in contact with recently, it'll help us to figure this out'.  He yawned widely 'The station are gonna call me as soon as they have anything'.

'And in the meantime' Mark reminded him 'You are gonna get some sleep.'

Steve held up his hands in surrender 'Okay I'm going' he replied gloomily.  Wearily pushing himself up and out of the chair, he waved his father a half-hearted farewell and trudged heavily down the stairs to his apartment below.

'Sleep well son' Mark called after him, his concern reflected in both voice and expression.  Dumping his cold coffee down the sink and bending to place the cup in the dishwasher, Mark sighed, he hated to see Steve so dejected.  Suddenly he paused, the cup hovering in mid air, as he was struck by a realisation that was altogether far more alarming.  It wasn't mere dejection he had sensed in his son; it was defeat.

In his room, Steve struggled to kick off his shoes, fatigue induced clumsiness making him irritable.  Frustration mounting, he clawed tersely at his badge and gun, with fingers that refused to co-operate.  Finally tearing them free, he dropped both with a crash onto the bedside cabinet, upending the books and alarm clock stacked there.  With a sudden rush of temper, he dragged off his shirt, wrenching buttons free in the process.  Balling it up, he tossed it angrily onto a nearby chair where it slid unceremoniously to the floor.  

'Damm it!' he swore.

Energy quickly spent he sank, drained and morose onto the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands.  Despite his best efforts at the crime scene last night, they were no further forwards.  Wyatt and the others – Steve knew there would be others, were right, he wasn't doing his damn job.  He could imagine the conversations at the station, whispered in the cafeteria or the men's room; the suggestion that may be Steve Sloan wasn't quite up to it.  Were they right?  Should he go to the Chief, ask to be taken off the case?  The press was having a field day, carnivorous reporters queuing up to sully the reputation of the LAPD.  They had to find something and fast, but was he really the man to do it?

He wasn't usually plagued with such self-doubts, but right now, achingly tired, muscles screaming with fatigue, he was close to the edge.  Far too often he knew; he was letting his temper get the better of him, preventing him from clear and rational thinking.  He'd seen the way Tannis was looking at him, she was worried and with good reason.  He wasn't stupid, he knew the score – burn out had ruined the lives and careers of too many cops.

Rolling onto his back, his squeezed his eyes tightly shut and berated his body for letting him down.  Hard as it might be, Steve Sloan was no quitter.  He had no option; he had to see it through.**  So**** maybe some rest right now would help?  Was that the real problem?  On too many occasions recently he'd felt groggy and confused, his mind refusing to process the crucial information that surely would enable him to crack the case.  Drowsy and light-headed just wasn't gonna get the job done, and it had happened a couple of times in the last few days – this morning in Schwenk's office, the previous day in the path lab.  He had to be alert, awake, in control - so far he was anything but.  **

Steve frowned suddenly, as something registered in his mind, calling for his attention - a sensation, a link that he could almost grasp and yet eluded him.  He struggled to focus, but in his weary state the sensation was fleeting and in moments it was gone, lost in the jumble of thoughts that raced chaotic and unbidden through his head.  Snatches of conversations, flashes of faces - there was no respite.  The argument with Wyatt, Tannis asleep at her desk, his father's kindly and concerned face – it was impossible.  He groaned, pressing his hands over his eyes, wishing he could switch off his mind in the way he could switch off his body.  But his mind refused to co-operate.  And although the images taunted him, his brain remained frustratingly unable to put the pieces together.

His rational side knew that as a cop it was imperative to remain detached and objective.  His personal feelings had to stay separate from the case at all times.  But he'd become a cop because he cared about people, just as his father cared.  Whilst he couldn't save lives in the way his father did, he could still save them.  So far three people had died – how many more lives would he fail to save?  

His last conscious thought before he finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a brief and troubled sleep, was one of guilt 

'You're sleeping on the job Sloan'

Author's note:

Just a quick note to say a big **'thank you' to everyone who is reviewing – it really is helpful in terms of keeping me motivated.  I realise this is quite a long and drawn out story, so I really appreciate you all persevering with reading it!**

PS. For those interested in 'Who dunnit' there are clues and the obligatory 'red herrings' throughout the chapters, and there will be more, so stay sharp!


	18. Chapter 20

Mark parked his car in the lot, and sighed. In the hazy afternoon sunlight it was hard to believe the horrors he had witnessed in those early morning hours.  The archaeology building, nestled snugly at the foot of the rolling campus hills, looked innocuous in the extreme.  But the yellow police tape so very much in evidence, was a tacit reminder to all, of the more sinister reality beyond the perfect facade.

            There were still police officers combing the grounds.  Some faces Mark recognised from his early morning sojourn; others were new.  Undoubtedly the ranks had swelled; reinforcements brought in to painstakingly cover every inch of the terrain.  On the perimeter press photographers, light bulbs flashing, competed to get the next scoop, whilst  T.V. cameramen filmed glamorous reporters,  all busy relaying the latest news to the citizens of America.

Mark blinked wearily; no wonder Steve felt so much pressure.  His son was heading up this operation, leading the campaign against the terror that had hit UCLM and taken a firm hold.  He looked around him; this place was a media circus.  College kids were at risk and it was clear that America wanted to know exactly what was being done about it.  He sighed, if no break through was made soon, it was clear someone was gonna have to take the fall.  Mark shook his head sadly, and resolutely set off towards Schwenk's office.  As he walked, he grimly promised himself to do everything he could to make sure that the fall guy would not be his son.

Gaining access to the cordoned area proved a little more difficult than he had anticipated.  Security was tight and the officer on duty was not the same young man who had ushered them through that morning.  Instead of the respectful youngster, Mark was met with a grouchy middle aged officer, whose 'seen it all before' attitude was matched by his dour expression.  Mark smiled amiably, but to no avail.  Just as he was about to despair, a familiar voice barked 'Let him through Jackson'.

Turning, Mark faced Chief Masters, who greeted him with a wry smile.

'Dr. Sloan' the Chief sighed 'I was wondering how long it'd be before we had the pleasure of your company'.

Mark smiled at the lean, rangy detective 'My son said it'd be okay for me to take a look around' he offered by way of explanation.

The Chief inclined his head 'Then I guess you'd better come in'.

The response was laconic as ever; but he wouldn't have expected anything else.  Mark stepped forward, momentarily dwarfed by the other man's greater height.  At 6 foot 6, Master's stature was an undoubted advantage in his role as Chief of Police.  Combined with the direct, no nonsense approach and the hard glint behind the eyes, Mark was sure that Chief Masters could effortlessly inspire fear in officers and criminals alike.  

In all honesty, he wasn't sure he trusted the man.  Although there was nothing tangible, from what Steve had said, he was a shadowy figure with dealings on both sides of the law.  Mark was aware that his son had refused a permanent position on the Chief's task force.  Whilst he knew little of the man himself, or Steve's motives for refusal, he trusted his son's judgement.  As far as Mark was concerned, any dealings with Masters had to be handled with care.  Promising himself to heed his own advice, he followed the Chief down the corridor to the office of the late archaeologist.

'Here you go Doctor' Masters said dryly, ushering Mark through the door 'It's all yours'.  He turned to one of the uniforms, who hovered by the desk, and spoke sharply 'Jenkins, make sure the good doctor here has the run of the place'.

'Thank you' Mark said, surprised at the co-operation.  The police department wasn't always so willing to let him get involved, despite his consultant status.

Looking back over his shoulder Masters grimaced and said darkly 'Believe me Doctor, on this occasion I need all the help I can get'.  With that he was gone and Mark was left to contemplate the unspoken implications of their final exchange.

Turning back to the young officer, he took a deep breath and smiled genially 'It's not going so well huh?'

Jenkins looked at him uneasily 'I can't possibly comment on that Sir'.

'It's alright' Mark explained, 'my son Steve is a police officer, he's involved with this investigation'.  

The officer's face relaxed into a wry smile.  'In that case, no Sir it isn't going well at all'.  The young man frowned 'We have no leads, no suspects, no evidence, no nothing'.  He sighed 'The Chief is really cracking the whip on this one.  All leave has been cancelled and everyone's pulling double shifts'.  He made a face 'My girlfriend is real mad, she had big plans for this weekend'.

Mark smiled sympathetically, obviously it wasn't just Steve who was suffering. 'You know' he continued 'My son said that two of the archaeologists were in here last night, right before the murder took place'.

Jenkins nodded 'Natasha Summers and Nate Johnson, but they both left around 8 o'clock'.

'Oh, that's right' Mark smacked a hand to his forehead.  Steve had told him both had left early.  But still may be they had seen or heard something before they went.  'Are either of them around right now?' he persisted 'I'd like to have a word with them if I could'.

Jenkins wrinkled his nose thoughtfully 'I think Doctor Summers has been released, but Johnson should still be around.  We've been too busy to sign off on his paper work yet, but it shouldn't be long'.  He looked at Mark 'I doubt if it'll do any good, but if you'll follow me …'

The officer led Mark to a small tutorial room, which had been converted into an office for interrogation.  Outside, another officer was seated in a plastic chair, a newspaper on his lap and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.  Hearing footsteps he quickly snapped to attention, but once he realised it wasn't the Chief or any other superiors; he slumped back down, his lackadaisical demeanour resumed.  

Mark was ushered inside, where a young man was standing by a table.  With his spiky blonde hair and 5 o'clock shadow, he looked at first glance not unlike Jesse at the end of a long shift.  However, on closer inspection, Mark decided he was more like Steve had been in his mid to late twenties.  This man looked rugged, powerful.  His physical presence indicated someone used to spending time out of doors, an adventurer Mark decided.  Right now he was like a caged tiger, prowling restlessly, muscles tensed, waiting to pounce.

 Nate Johnson looked up hopefully at his latest visitor 'Can I get outta here now?'  He sighed 'It's been four hours and I've told you guys everything I know'.   He looked at Mark pleadingly 'Just sign off on those release papers or whatever it is you have to do and I'll be on my way'.

Mark smiled apologetically 'I'm sorry Mr. Johnson, but I don't have the authority to do that'.  He held out his hand 'I'm Dr. Mark Sloan, I work as a consultant for the police department'.

Nate sighed – a doctor? They must think he was sick or crazy – mind you if he stayed cooped up in here much longer he would be.  He looked up at Mark 'Believe me Doc I'm not sick.'  He grinned, a roguish glint adding sparkle to the blue eyes  'the only thing wrong with me right now is a serious case of cabin fever and I sure as hell know the cure for that one'.

Mark smiled, instinctively appreciating the younger man's spirit 'I'll tell you what he offered reasonably  'you answer a couple of my questions and I'll see what I can do about getting you out of here.  How's that?'

Nate shrugged, the old guy seemed kinda eccentric, but then what did he have to lose?  He sat down at the table and spread his hands, palms up 'Okay Doctor Sloan, fire away'.

Taking a seat opposite, Mark beamed 'I'd like to know everything you can tell me about Egyptian rituals'.


	19. Chapter 21

Nate Johnson blinked in surprise 'Everything I can tell you about ancient Egyptian rituals?' he said incredulously. 

Mark smiled and shrugged his shoulders 'That's right'.  

Recovering his composure Nate grinned 'Well Doc, I wasn't expecting that, but I gotta tell ya it's the most interesting goddamn question I've been asked all day!' 

'Who was this guy?' Nate wondered.  Certainly he was no run of the mill cop, with their endless questions about where he'd been, and who he'd been with.  No this guy was a completely different proposition. 

'So Doc,' he said chewing his lip thoughtfully 'what exactly do ya wanna know?'

'Well' Mark let out a breath 'You know, I heard that Dr Schwenck was kinda interested in rituals'.

Nate smiled 'You could say that yeah, given that he based his entire career on rituals and the occult'.  

'And what about you?' Mark asked

'Me?' Nate paused and moved slightly in his seat 'Well, my Doctoral research, is a deconstruction of the protective ritual of Horus' he grinned sheepishly 'so I guess you could say that I'm kinda into rituals too'. 

'Mmmh, I see' Mark nodded, his interest obviously piqued.

Under Mark's intense gaze, Nate shifted uncomfortably and took a drink from the glass of water in front of him.

'You know Doc' he said 'it's not so strange, pretty much the whole department here specialises in the occult - gods and goddesses, priests and temples, rituals and ruins.  If ya wanna study the darker side of Ancient Egypt' he grinned  'UCLM is definitely the place to be'.

'The darker side?' Mark asked raising his eyebrows

'Sure' Nate replied 'Although when I say darker, I mean spooky, unusual ya know?'

Mark nodded and the archaeologist continued eagerly.

'Take David Summers and his wife for instance, they are ….' he hastily corrected himself 'I mean were, both prolific in terms of their research into the after life.  Natasha's main interest is in reincarnation rituals' he smiled 'and boy does she take her work seriously'.  

'Whaddaya mean?' Mark asked.

Nate paused 'Well it's like this Doc, most of us academics spend our time trying to find rationale explanations for ancient beliefs, right?'

Mark nodded.

 'But her?' Nate shook his head wryly 'She believes in it herself'.  He smiled 'I guess it's the being half-Egyptian thing ya know?  She's always saying she feels a kinship with the ancient civilisation'.

'Oh' Mark replied intrigued 'I hadn't realised'.

'Oh yeah' Nate continued assuredly.  'From what I heard, that's why David was so attracted to her, she's different ya know?  She's not just studying archaeology she's living it.'  He grinned 'The fact that she's so goddamn beautiful probably didn't hurt either!' 

Mark smiled 'And what about Dr. Summers himself, you said he was interested in the dark side too?'

Nate rubbed his head thoughtfully 'Well David had moved on to excavation techniques and preservation technology, but I've got a feeling that originally he was heavily involved in the study of some type of rituals'.  He rubbed his head thoughtfully  'vengeance, protection, rejuvenation? – I'm not sure'.  

Looking at Mark he grinned 'Now don't go quoting me on that Doc will ya, cause I'm kinda hazy'.  He paused  'I'm guessing it was his Masters research when he was at Yale, ya know unpublished kids' stuff, before he made it to the major leagues'.

'I see' Mark said thoughtfully, stroking his moustache.   'You know' he said, I've always been kinda fascinated by Ancient Egypt myself.  Do you think it would it be possible to get a hold of that research?' 

Nate shrugged, his tone casual 'Sure Doc, knock yourself out.  You should be able to get a copy at the central library.  They have a section on the third floor, where they store a whole bunch of academic papers'.  He paused thoughtfully 'if not, I think you can get the librarian to request a copy from Yale'.

Mark beamed and reached over to shake Nate's hand 'Well Mr. Johnson it's been very interesting'.  He winked 'Now how's about I go see if I can get you out of here?'

'I'd sure appreciate it Doc' the young archaeologist replied; letting out a breath – 'I'm an outdoors kinda guy, sitting around here all day' he grinned and picked up his glass of water 'what can I say, it just ain't me'.

As Mark reached the door he paused 'Oh, I almost forgot – can I just ask you one more question?'

Nate shrugged 'Sure Doc, shoot.'

'When the Ancients prepared bodies for the after life' Mark said 'what did they use to ensure successful preservation?'

Taken by surprised, Nate choked on his water.

'Are you alright?' Mark asked patting him on the back.

Nate held up a hand 'I'm fine, it just went down the wrong way is all'.

He coughed and took another sip of water.  Finally regaining his composure, he looked up at Mark 'I have to admit I'm not an expert Doc', but usually a combination of oils and resins were used for embalming.  Combined with the linen wrappings, they kept the body free from decay'.

'And what exactly was in those oils and resins?' Mark asked.  

Still coughing slightly, Nate paused and took a deep breath 'Well now you've got me Doc' he replied 'I couldn't rightly say.'

Mark smiled amiably 'Oh I'm sure you can come up with something.' He paused and looked genially at the young man 'after all Mr. Johnson you do have a degree in archaeology'.

Nate smiled tightly 'Well I'm no chemist, but if ya really want me to make a guess?'

Mark nodded  

'Well' Nate paused, 'from my undergraduate days, I think I remember Natron was one of the components'.  

'Natron?' Mark frowned

'Yeah' Nate replied lightly 'It's some sort of a mixture with a sodium carbonate base - or was that bicarbonate?' he shrugged casually 'I'm really not too sure'.

'You know' Mark said 'I've never heard of Natron'.

Nate let out a breath 'I don't think it's used any more.  From what I remember it was pretty potent - soporific effects in small amounts, maybe even toxic in large doses'. 

'Really?' Mark raised his eyebrows. 

Nate smiled 'The ancient technology was amazing Dr. Sloan, but it definitely had it's drawbacks! Their embalming oils worked real well, but not only were they intoxicating, I think they would leave the flesh of the corpse withered and discoloured after about a week.  From what I remember, the Natron eventually damaged the eye sockets too'.  

'I see' Mark said thoughtfully

Warming to his theme Nate smiled confidently 'I guess that's why it's not used for preservation any more.  In fact, I don't think they even make it any more'.

He looked at Mark closely; the old guy was fascinated, hanging off his every word.  He paused, and smiled stiffly 'So, is there a reason you want to know about this Doctor Sloan?'

'What?' Mark asked innocently.

'Embalming' Nate replied 'What exactly is your interest?'

Mark looked at him genially 'Oh didn't I make it clear?' he asked sweetly. 

'The professors that were murdered …' he paused 'I'm pretty sure they were embalmed'.  

At Nate's shocked expression Mark smiled 'Thank you Mr. Johnson, you've been a great help'.

Author's note 

Just to say thanks again for the reviews! 

I've been trying to post fairly regularly so far, but I've got a busy time coming up soon, so just to let you know although it's okay at the moment, there may be longer gaps between postings in the not too distant future.  But I promise I will finish the story!!


	20. Chapter 22

Pulling the cover back over the cadaver Amanda sighed 'To be honest Steve, at the moment I can't tell you much more than I did at 4.30 this morning'.

Steve ran a hand through his hair irritably.  Although he'd gotten to the hospital as soon as she'd finished the autopsy, it was looking like a wasted journey.  He sighed, he really wasn't getting a break here, and to add insult to injury, there was that smell again.  Pungent and sickly sweet, it had already induced a headache, leaving him feeling dull and lethargic.

'What is that perfume you're wearing?' he finally growled bad-temperedly, massaging his temples in an effort to ease the dull pounding, that had been growing progressively worse since his arrival in the lab.  

Certainly he was no expert, but he'd been around Amanda long enough to know that she didn't usually favour such heady aromas.  He couldn't name the brand, but a subtle floral fragrance was predominantly her scent of choice. This current perfume was anything but subtle.  He frowned, may be it was to Ron Wagner's taste, but it certainly wasn't doing much for him.

She was looking at him in confusion 'Steve, I'm not wearing any perfume' she replied.

He groaned irritably 'C'mon Amanda, I could smell it this morning and yesterday when I was here with you in the lab' he cocked an eyebrow 'What is it, you trying out a new scent for Ron?'  He gave her a half smile  'cause I gotta tell ya it's kinda over powering'.

Her head snapped up, as the realisation dawned 'Steve' she said slowly 'It's not perfume, it's the substance I found on Schwenk's body'.  

She looked at him keenly, suddenly it was all making sense.

'When you came to the lab yesterday, it must have been the samples of the substances I'd found on Peterson and Summers that you could smell' she said.  

She paused, thinking back, trying to put the pieces together 'I'd been examining the substances through the microscope' she said thoughtfully, recreating the actions in her mind  'and I'd stacked the sample slides on top of the filing cabinet'.  She looked at him triumphantly 'You were standing right next to them!'

He looked at her sceptically – she had that look.  Just now, he wasn't sure where she was going with this, but she definitely had something on her mind. 

'And we still don't know what these substances are?' he asked tiredly

'No' she replied, thinking hard 'We don't know what they are, but they certainly have an effect on you'.  She frowned 'Both this morning in Schwenk's office and yesterday in the lab, you were reacting to them weren't you?'  

Steve snorted scornfully, fatigue heightening his exasperation 'Oh come on Amanda that's ridiculous.'

She looked at him keenly 'Okay, so how do you feel right now?'

Embarrassed he looked down shiftily 'I feel fine.'  

It didn't fool her for a second and he knew it.

Amanda raised her eyebrows meaningfully and he sighed. 

'Okay' he admitted grudgingly 'I feel a little woozy and lethargic, like I can't think straight'.  He paused, shrugging his shoulders 'But I was up half the night; I'm hardly likely to be feeling on top of the world'.  

'Anything else?' she persisted 'C'mon Steve it could be important'.  She smiled at him teasingly, giving his hand a quick squeeze 'Trust me, this is not the time to be macho'.

He let out a breath 'I don't know, dizzy, a little headache may be ..' he paused 'But it doesn't make any sense.'

'Whaddaya mean?' she asked

'Well if it is a reaction to the substances, shouldn't it be affecting you too?' he asked reasonably  'And what about Dad, he was there this morning.  Neither of you seem to be affected at all'.

'Mmmmh' she frowned thoughtfully, turning over the possibilities in her mind.  His logic was sound, but she wasn't ready to give up on her theory just yet.  She looked at him 'I'll admit it's strange' she said finally, 'but there could be all sorts of explanations'.

'Really' he said dryly, still not convinced

'Steve' she said seriously 'We have no idea what we're dealing with here.  There could be any number or combination of chemicals and solutions in these compounds'.  She continued talking, thinking out loud, speaking more to herself than to him 'It's entirely possible its some sort of allergic reaction, or may be your resistance is low precisely because you haven't had much sleep lately'.

She looked at him eagerly 'You know if we did a blood test may be it'd give us more to go on'.

Steve groaned, having Amanda stick him with a needle was not top of his list of favoured things to do, especially when it wasn't gonna progress the case any.  He could see the gleam in her eye, just like his father got when he thought he was on to something.  Surreptitiously he looked at his watch; if left now he could get back over to the crime scene before it got dark and do some real work.

Reading his mood Amanda smiled sweetly 'Five minutes I promise.'

Shaking his head he began to roll up the sleeve of his shirt.  Still grumbling as he exposed the soft inner flesh of his right arm, he allowed her to steer him to a chair by the window 'I still think this is a waste of time' he groused, 'but if it makes you happy …'

'Look Steve ' she said adamantly, hands on hips 'I have spent a week trying to figure out what these substances are and you are my first clue'.  She looked at him sternly 'You have to respect the fact that I know what I'm doing and let me get on with my job'.

He sighed 'I'm sorry Amanda, you're right, I was outta line … ouch!' he looked at her reproachfully 'that hurt'.

She grinned as she attached the vial to the needle that she had just inserted none too gently into his arm. 'Honestly Steve, it's just a little needle' she teased 'there's no need to make such a fuss'.

He opened his mouth to protest, but seeing his own blood rapidly filling up the vial, changed his mind.  Pulling a face he hastily looked away, and let her get on with it.

Amanda smiled; it always amazed her how many tough guys didn't like needles – not that they'd admit it of course.  To make her point, she had been purposely rather heavy-handed drawing his blood.  The heavy-handed jab was her way of pointing out to him that he was being heavy-handed himself.  She'd seen him look at his watch, and she knew he wasn't taking her theory seriously.  Instead he was riding rough-shod over her ideas and concerns.  He was desperate to get back to the crime scene where the 'real' action was taking place.  

She sighed, she loved him dearly, but he could be so pig headed at times.  Once he got locked into an idea he wasn't interested in anything else.  On reflection, that was where father and son differed, she thought.  Whilst Steve was always rational, always looking for the tangible evidence, Mark was somehow freer, more open minded, willing to entertain even the most fanciful of possibilities.  She guessed it was the difference between police work and medicine.  Whilst the police could do nothing without proof, as doctors they often looked for any solution, no matter how remote.

'Are we done yet?' Steve's voice, still irritable, brought her back to the present. 

'Here' she said firmly, handing him a clean swab, and deftly removing the now full syringe 'Hold this and press down hard.'

Keeping the swab over the incision point as instructed, he continued mulishly 'I just don't see how you can be so sure I'm reacting to the substances.  May be I just feel out of it because I haven't had much sleep'.

'It's possible' she allowed 'but think about it.  When have the symptoms been most intense?'  She looked at him 'From what I can tell, there's three occasions – in here yesterday afternoon, this morning in Schwenk's office and then again just now.  All those times you were exposed.'

He didn't reply.

 'Steve?'  she prompted, but he was looking right through her.

 'Are you okay? she asked suddenly concerned.  Perhaps taking blood when he was feeling woozy hadn't been one of her better ideas. 

'Do you need some air?' she made a move to open the window, but he grasped her wrist, holding her in place 'Steve what is it?' she asked 'You're scaring me now'.

He looked at her strangely 'Four occasions' he said slowly.

'What?' she asked confused

'I've had those symptoms on four occasions' he said.

Just as she was about to ask him to elaborate, he smiled 

'Thank you Amanda, I think I just got my first break!'


	21. Chapter 23

**Authors note:  Sorry for the delay, thanks for being patient – hope you're still enjoying it!**

Turning the corner, Mark collided with an athletic looking man dressed in the blue uniform of the university porters.  Upon impact, the stack of books and files in the porter's arms went flying.  Cascading to the floor, with covers depicting maps of the world, ancient civilisations, equations and algebraic formulations, they created a veritable conundrum of colour at the two men's feet.  

'Oh my, I'm so sorry' Mark apologised, bending down to help retrieve the situation.

'No problem' the man sighed 'Its me' he shrugged apologetically 'mind's just not on the job today'.

Mark held out his hand to introduce himself 'Dr. Mark Sloan' he said with a smile 'And really it was all my fault'.  

The porter shook Mark's hand 'Pleased to meet you Dr. Sloan, I'm John Anderson.'  He paused 'You know I recognise most of the academics around here, but your face doesn't look familiar at all.'

Mark smiled 'Oh I'm not an academic, I'm a medical doctor.  I help out the police sometimes, you know if there's any medical evidence to investigate'.

At the mention of the police the porter's face darkened.  Immediately Mark realised his mistake 'Forgive me Mr. Anderson' he apologised 'That was insensitive of me I'm sorry'.

Anderson shrugged 'It's okay Doctor, just been a tough couple of days is all'.

Mark rubbed his head thoughtfully 'Must be difficult for you, what with all the police and the press around the place'.

John sighed 'It sure is' he rolled his eyes 'and then there's all the other academics, don't forget them' he smiled ruefully 'all the prima donna shouting and screaming, the total panic, all terrified that they're gonna be next'.

Mark smiled sympathetically 'I guess I can see why they'd be worried.'

John shrugged 'I guess, but it doesn't make my job any easier'.  He looked at Mark, and there was a slight note of bitterness in his voice 'hell we're all terrified we're gonna be next, what makes them so special?'

'Well' Mark sighed 'It has been all academics so far – Professor Peterson, Professor Summers and now Dr. Schwenk'.  He paused 'I guess you can't blame them for figuring it's a vendetta against the faculty.

John shrugged 'I guess you're right' he admitted.  He smiled ruefully 'Take no notice of me Doctor, I'm just having a bad day – letting people get to me, ya know'.  

Mark didn't answer; sensing there was more.  He was right.  John lowered his voice 'There's one thing you gotta know about universities Doctor Sloan.  They operate on a class system – some people count and some people don't'.  He sighed 'I guess some days I just get tired of being one of those that don't count – ya know what I mean?'

With that he hoisted the books and papers onto his hip and continued down the corridor.  Mark remained where he was contemplating the man's words.  Unaccountably he thought of the hospital and his own staff.  Was a class system in operation there?  He prided himself on treating each individual on their own merits, but how fairly did he really treat his staff?  Did he show the junior doctors and first year nurses the same courtesy and respect he extended to the consultants and the Board of Directors?  What about the janitors and the parking lot attendants? He sighed, he was pretty sure he did, but on reflection he was painfully aware that many of his colleagues undoubtedly did not.  Shaking his head ruefully he continued on his way.

Rolling over in bed, Tanis groaned and pulled a pillow over her head in a futile attempt to block out the incessant ringing of the telephone.  After eight rings she admitted defeat – whoever that was they obviously weren't gonna go away.  Tossing the pillow aside, she rolled her eyes 'Should have taken it off the hook' she told herself dryly.  Flicking on the bedside lamp, she blinked painfully at the sudden light and groped blindly for the phone.

 'Archer' she growled shortly, pushing the hair out of her eyes and forcing her sleep addled brain to get at least a tenuous grip on reality.  

'Nice telephone manner' the voice on the other end smirked 'Tell me, do you look as bad as you sound?'

She pulled a face 'This better be good Sloan, you promised me the day off remember'.  

As she listened, her expression changed from disgust to incredulity 'Did you just say what I think you just said?'  

As he walked down the corridor of Community General, Steve smiled 'I sure did'.

She sat up in bed, all thoughts of sleep gone  'But what? How? Who? ….'

'Whoa there Archer' Steve said teasingly 'You know, you're getting a little excited.  May be I should call back later when you've had a chance to calm down?'.  He smiled, he could imagine the exact expression on her face right now, that characteristic mix of long suffering indulgence and exasperation that she did so well.

'You're really enjoying this aren't you?' she growled accusingly.

'You bet' he replied cheerfully, turning a corner and narrowly avoiding a gurney carrying a patient and pushed by four hospital staff.

In her mind's eye she could see his lopsided grin and those familiar dimples.  He didn't smile that often, but when he did, boy it was a killer.

'Okay Steve give it up' she ordered 'I haven't slept for a week, I feel like hell, I look like hell. If you've really cracked this case then I deserve to be the first to know'.  

Pushing the button on the elevator he grinned 'And you will be, but not yet.  Before I say anything else, I need you to do something for me'.

She raised her eyebrows 'What exactly did you have in mind?'

Arriving back at the parking lot, Mark was surprised to see a familiar vehicle turn in and pull to a stop.  Steve bounded out of the car, and slammed the door shut.  Spotting Mark, he strode purposefully towards his father.  Mark stared, it was undoubtedly him; but this was not the Steve Sloan he had left at the beach house earlier that morning.  At 7.30 am his son had been a wreck on the verge of defeat, now he looked determined and pumped, full of energy and purpose.

'Good sleep huh?' Mark asked blithely, as Steve reached his side.

'Absolutely' he replied succinctly.

'Steve what's going on?' Mark asked.  Something was up, that was for sure.  Something had sparked off this renewed energy.  He hoped fervently that Steve wasn't angry about something.  His son had a temper, he knew.  A pacifist himself, Mark often found Steve's anger hard to reconcile.  Had someone said something to upset him, was that why he'd come storming down here?  Mark groaned, maybe he was here to have it out with Chief Masters.

Steve didn't reply to his father's question.  Instead his eyes raked the lot and the main street, searching, but for what Mark had no idea.  

'Steve' Mark continued, now convinced that he was spoiling for a fight 'Now son, you're not gonna do anything rash are you?  Whatever it is that you're upset about, I'm sure there's a simple explanation and …'

'Dad' Steve interrupted distractedly 'What are you talking about?'

Mark paused in confusion 'So you're not upset?'

Steve frowned 'Upset? Why would I be upset?'

Mark smiled sheepishly 'Well after this morning I just thought …'

'You thought what?' Steve asked darkly.

'Er…' Mark floundered.  Now that he'd started this conversation, he wasn't sure quite how to get out of it.  He looked around searching for inspiration, but nothing came 'I was just …'

'You were just worried about me?' Steve looked at him knowingly.

Mark smiled guiltily and Steve smiled back.  There was silence for a moment and then Mark spoke.

'So you're not here to fight?' he asked.

Steve looked at him, bemused 'Of course I'm not here to fight, why would you think I was here to fight?'

'No reason' Mark said innocently, as Steve still puzzled, frowned at him in confusion.  Spotting an escape route, Mark smiled sweetly and pointed to another car that had just pulled up 'Isn't that Tanis' car?'

Steve turned 'It sure is'.

'You know son' Mark continued 'You seem a little tense, are you tense?'

'Not now Dad' Steve waved him off as Tanis approached.

'Well?' he said.

'Well' she replied 'I've got what you asked for - the list of fingerprints from Schwenck's office, the records from his phone' she paused  'The prints off of the key chain we're still waiting for.  They're gonna call you in five'.

Steve gestured impatiently and she handed over the sheets of paper.  He flicked through the pages, swiftly scanning and discarding them.  Mark raised his eyebrows and looked at Tanis questioningly.

'Don't ask me' she groused 'He calls me up on my day off, tells me he knows who the killer is, but won't tell me anything until I bring him all the forensic results from the station'.

Mark turned to his son in amazement 'You know who the killer is?'

There was a pause as Steve continued to pore over the list.  Eventually he looked up and smiled 'I do'.

'But who? How?' Mark couldn't believe it.

Steve grinned.  For once he'd beaten his father to it and it felt great.  He smiled 'May be I've picked up a few pointers from you after all'.

'But how'd you do it?' Mark asked, still in shock.

'And more to the point' Tanis interrupted dryly 'Who is it?'

Steve smiled 'As to how, well I've got Amanda to thank for that one.  She helped me find a connection that had been in the back of my mind the whole time.  Once I'd figured that out it was obvious' he grinned confidently 'couldn't be anyone else'.

'But who is it?' Mark and Tanis asked in unison.

'Oh no' Steve smirked 'for that, you're gonna have to wait a while'.  He winked at his father 'It's pay back time Dad, I'm gonna torment you for a change'

Mark turned conversationally to Tanis 'You know when he was small he was always such a pleasant little boy, I can't think how he's developed this thirst for revenge'.

She rolled her eyes and was about to reply when the ring from Steve's cell phone made them jump.

'Sloan here' Steve barked, then 'Thank you Davis, Thank you very much'.

He turned back to Mark and Tanis 'Let's go'.

'Go where?' she growled

Steve grinned 'Follow me'.  

As he set off up the hill, Tanis rolled her eyes and followed, but Mark stayed where he was.

 'Steve, the archaeology department is this way' he said, pointing in the opposite direction to where Steve and Tanis were headed.

Steve looked round impatiently 'We're not going to the archaeology department Dad' he said.  Turning back, he carried on up the hill, Tanis trailing behind.

Mark looked at his son's retreating back in surprise 

'We're not?' he said to himself and frowned.


	22. Chapter 24

**Author's notes:  Thanks very much for the reviews of the last chapter, they really motivated me to keep going!  I've started trying to combine chapters, so I have longer sections to post (and I don't end up with about 40 short chapters!), let me know if you think they're getting too long! **

'Boy, you know you look great' Jesse beamed enthusiastically 'Have you done something with your hair, cause it really enhances .. erm … it erm …. '

            'It what?' Amanda growled suspiciously, looking up from the book she was studying.  Jesse paying her compliments, however clumsily, meant only one thing – he wanted something.  It wasn't that she was averse to the idea of helping him out, quite the contrary.  But right now she had neither the time nor the inclination to let him stumble through his routine – however cute it might be.

            Finally hitting upon the right words Jesse smiled sweetly 

'It sets off your eyes' he said triumphantly.

She groaned, even by Jesse's standards that one was lame.  Amanda was a realist. She'd been up half the night and was painfully aware that she wasn't looking her usual immaculate best.  She sighed 'Okay Jesse, whaddaya want, cause I'm kinda busy right now'.

'What makes you think I want something?' he asked reproachfully 'Can't I just comment on how great you're looking without you getting all suspicious?'

She gave him a look.

Okay' he admitted 'Here's the thing.  I'm supposed to be taking Susan out tonight for our first date'.

Amanda gave him a look 'Not to Bob's right?'

He pulled a face 'No, not to Bob's, but I still don't see what's wrong with Bob's'.  

She began to explain, but Jesse was already switching off.  He picked up the odd word – 'romantic', 'special', 'private', and gave her an occasional smile and nodding of his head, to give the impression he was taking her comments on board, but really he couldn't see why she was making such a fuss.   As far as he was concerned Bob's was the best place in town – great food, great atmosphere, great selection on the jukebox and the regulars were great company.  What more could a girl want on a first date?  'Women' he thought – 'who understands 'em?'

Amanda stopped talking; she knew when she was fighting a losing battle.  Jesse was a great guy, who often touched her with his sensitivity, but sometimes he was just like all the rest of them.  She looked at him and smiled, when it came to venues for first dates like most men, he just didn't have a clue.

            She rolled her eyes 'So I ask again Jesse' she said impatiently  'whaddaya want?'

He squirmed slightly and she looked at him closely 'Jesse Travis are you blushing?'

'No' he said defensively.

'You are!' she proclaimed in amusement.  

He shifted awkwardly, and looked up at her. From beneath the floppy fringe, his puppy dog eyes were at their beseeching best.  That boyish charm was lethal she sighed to herself, when he turned it on it was hard to refuse him anything.

'Jesse what do you need?  Is it money?' she asked gently 'cause if it is, it's no problem.'  She reached down for her purse 'How much do you want?'

He met her eyes 'It's not money' he sighed 'Okay, I'm just gonna say it real quick and you've gotta promise me you won't laugh'.

She smiled 'I promise'.

He took a deep breath 'I'm taking Susan to 'Pierre's'.

'Jesse!' Amanda was surprised and impressed 'Pierre's' was one of the most exclusive French restaurants in Los Angeles. 'Pierre's is the height of sophistication' she exclaimed 'Susan'll love it!'

Jesse sighed 'That's just it'.

Amanda was confused 'I don't understand.'

He looked at her earnestly 'Pierre's _is the height of sophistication and Susan __will love it' he paused 'but I'm definitely not the height of sophistication'.  _

He looked at her sadly 'You know me, my idea of great cuisine is sesame seeds on a bun'.  He smiled ruefully 'I'm afraid I'm gonna ….  I don't know, get food on my tie, use the wrong cutlery …' he looked at her 'You've gotta help me out here'.

Amanda smiled so that was it; he wanted some instructions in etiquette.

 'Jesse' she said soothingly 'Susan will love you exactly as you are.  You don't need to try and impress her with expensive restaurants and perfect table manners'.

            'Really?' he said hopefully.

'Really' she replied firmly.  She squeezed his hand and looked at him earnestly 'Susan will love you for your honesty and your sincerity……'

Jesse started to look more cheerful as she continued '….. and your gentleness and understanding, and your sense of humour' 

She smiled at him affectionately 'after all that's why we all love you'.

Jesse was touched.  He grinned at her goofily, eyes slightly misty  - for once words failed him.  Surreptitiously swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he hastily covered his emotions with a joke. 

'That's great Amanda' he said breezily, then with a grin 'Now about that money you were going to lend me ..' 

She pulled a face and tossed one of the files at him 'Get outta here' she scolded good-naturedly.

Catching the file Jesse looked down at it with interest 'David Summers?' he said 'You still working on him?  I thought you did his autopsy last week.'

She sighed 'I did, but Steve was in here before and he got me thinking'.

'Thinking what?' Jesse asked

'Thinking that whatever is in those substances, it's powerful enough to cause dizziness and light-headedness' she replied.

'Who's dizzy and light-headed?' he asked

'Steve is' she said 'At least he is when he's around the substances'.

Jesse sat down opposite her, his face taking on the intense look it always did when he was thinking through a problem. 

'So what you're saying is that Steve is having some kind of reaction to the substances you've found?'

She nodded.

'But if that's true, why isn't it having an effect on you?' he pointed out 'You've had more contact with these substances than anyone'.

She sighed 'I know, that's what Steve said and you're right it doesn't make any sense'.  She let out a breath 'I'm running some tests on a blood sample I took from Steve, may be it'll help'.  

Jesse shrugged 'Couldn't hurt'.  He grinned at her 'I just can't believe you got Steve to sit still long enough to take some blood'.

She smiled back grimly 'It wasn't easy, believe me'.  

She looked at him keenly 'There's something else too, something I haven't had chance to tell Steve yet'.

He raised an inquiring eyebrow and she got up and motioned him over to the cadaver.  As she pulled back the sheet, Jesse was treated to a close up view of David Summers' now withered and decaying body.  He screwed up his face. 

'Now I know why I prefer my patients to be alive' he said.

'Jesse' she admonished rolling her eyes 'This is serious'.

He grinned 'Okay, so besides a rather gross dead body, what exactly am I looking at here?'

'Well' she explained 'This body is far more withered and discoloured than we would expect at this stage in the degeneration process'.  

Pointing with her pencil she leaned closer 'And look at the damage to the eye sockets; that wasn't there when I did the first autopsy'.

Jesse peered closely 'So what you're saying is that the substance which makes Steve dizzy, also did this to the body?'

She sighed 'That's what I'm saying'.

'So' he continued 'I'm guessing you think it's something toxic?'

Returning to her desk she picked up the book she'd been reading when he arrived, a large, hardback copy of 'Smithson's Compendium of poisons'.  She waved it under his nose and raised her eyebrows inquiringly 'Wanna help me find out?'

Jesse grinned 'You bet'.

            'Steve, slow down' Mark panted as he struggled to keep pace with the two detectives.  Right now his son was a man on a mission, but Mark had a terrible feeling that it was the wrong mission.  Steve seemed so sure he had the right answer, but Mark couldn't get rid of a nagging doubt.  All of his instincts told him that the killer was an archaeologist, and yet here they were headed away from the archaeology department. It felt wrong.

Hearing his name, Steve paused and guilty turned to check on his father.  He'd been so caught up in the adrenaline rush that came with solving the case, he hadn't really thought about the gradient of the hill, nor the speed at which he was walking.  Having been exhausted for so long; the sudden burst of energy that had revitalised his system when he'd made that crucial connection, had been a revelation.  He felt almost his old self again, something he hadn't felt in quite a while.  Still that didn't excuse the neglect of his father's welfare.  He shook his head ruefully, with his father's youthful outlook and demeanour; it was all too easy to forget that he was a man in his 70's.

'Sorry Dad' he smiled sheepishly and reached out a hand to help his father up the hill  'You okay?'

Mark nodded, breathing heavily 'Just give me a minute will you'.

Tanis looked from one to the other, before finally settling on Steve 'So are you gonna tell us where we're going now?' she growled 'or' she looked at him wryly  'am I gonna have to beat it out of you?'

Steve let out a breath 'We're going to the chemistry department' he said finally.

Mark looked up sharply 'The chemistry department?' he said.

Steve smiled 'That's right'

Tanis nodded 'I think I'm beginning to see where this is going'.

Mark frowned 'Well may be you can explain it to me, cause I'm having some trouble putting the pieces together'.

Steve sighed 'Look Dad, I know you had this theory about Tutankhamun's curse and all that, but it was just an idea, you have nothing.  We need hard evidence' he paused emphatically 'and I have hard evidence that proves it was a chemist who killed Peterson, Summers and Schwenk'.

Mark opened his mouth to protest, but Steve held up a hand to silence him, then counted off on his fingers 'I have the phone records, plus the prints in the office and those found on the key chain' he smiled 'And guess what – there's a match'.  He paused 'I also have motive and opportunity'.  He looked at Mark with a wry smile 'Face it Dad, this time you got it wrong'.

Mark looked at Tanis, but she shrugged 'Sorry Mark, but for once I'm with him' she grinned at Steve 'So Sloan, whaddaya say we go bag ourselves a killer?'

Steve grinned back 'Sounds good to me'.

As they started walking again, Mark trailed behind lost in thought.  Steve's case was sounding pretty convincing and yet he couldn't let go of his own theory.  Was it an old man's foolish pride?  Had he become so accustomed to being the one who cracked the case, that he couldn't consider the possibility that for once he'd got it wrong?  After all, Steve was the police officer, and a damn fine one at that.  

Mark sighed.  He wanted Steve to be right, he really did, not only for the sake of his son's health, this case had been taking its toll, but for his self-esteem.  Mark was an intelligent man, although Steve was never anything but magnanimous when people commented upon his father's successes, Mark knew that his son was proud.  It was important for them both that Steve be recognised in his own right.

And yet, as much as Mark wanted Steve to be right, he couldn't silence the nagging doubts, that flooded his mind even now.  The MO of all three murders pointed to someone with a background in archaeology.  He was convinced that the killer was making a point with his method of execution.  Too much trouble had been taken for the methods to be merely random.  Why go to the trouble of killing Peterson with an ancient Egyptian blow pipe?  Why kill Schwenk with an Egyptian dagger? And then there was the embalming.  From his conversation with Nate Johnson, he was now pretty damn sure that all three bodies had been embalmed in the Ancient Egyptian ceremonial custom.  Why would a chemist do that?

Mark shook his head.  He hoped for Steve's sake and his own that he was wrong, but somehow he didn't think he was.


	23. Chapter 25

'How about this?' Jesse tried eagerly 'It's a derivative of PCP, causes blinding headaches, even vomiting in severe cases …..'

Before he could get any further Amanda shook her head 'I don't think so Jesse, PCP is a well-known chemical compound, it would have shown up on the tox screen'.  She paused 'We're looking for something a little less common'.

They both sighed heavily, exchanging weary glances.  

Solemnly Jesse went back to his book, painstakingly scanning each page.  His finger traced the seemingly endless list of chemicals and solutions, his lips moved silently as he read.

Amanda poured herself another coffee – her fifth?  She shook her head, despite the excess of caffeine, she still felt as though she were running on empty.  How Steve carried on the way he did she couldn't fathom.  But then Steve didn't have a lively child to contend with at the end of a day's work, she thought to herself, smiling ruefully.

Yawning widely, she too returned to the book in front of her, an extensive compendium of toxins and their derivatives – not a thrilling read, but at this point a necessity.  For a while they sat in companionable silence, broken only by the sound of pages turning and the clinking of coffee cups.

By the time Amanda reached the 'L's' in her alphabetical index, the small print was swimming before her eyes.  Decisively she closed the book, definitely time for a break.  Looking up she saw Jesse too had abandoned his text.  Chin cradled in the palm of his hand and elbow resting on the table; his eyes were shut.  He was either asleep or lost in thought.

Suddenly he spoke; the unexpected sound of his voice breaking the hither to extensive silence made her jump. 

'Remember Mark said he thought that the killer was trying to tell us something with the way he was carrying out the crimes?' Jesse said scratching his head thoughtfully.

Amanda nodded 'Well' Jesse continued 'D'you think that maybe we're looking in the wrong books here?' 

She frowned curiously 'What are you saying?'

He smiled sheepishly 'I guess what I'm saying is that, maybe medical textbooks aren't gonna help us solve this one'.  He paused and looked at her tentatively 'may be we need to try something a little more ..' he paused searching for the right word '… exotic?'

Waiting for her reaction he winced, screwing up his face ready for the inevitable scorn that would be coming his way.  Amanda was a practical woman and a scientist; she wasn't given to flights of fancy, ventures into the ridiculous.  Even to Jesse, his latest suggestion sounded a little off the wall. 

To his surprise she smiled  'Funny you should say that' she said dryly, reaching into her desk draw and retrieving another two books.

His eyes widened 'Magic and Medicine?' he exclaimed 'Sacred rituals and bodily adornment?'

'I bought them this morning from the bookstore across the street.' she admitted sheepishly 'Ever since Mark mentioned the lengths the killer went to and the possible ritualistic elements of the killings, I haven't been able to get Ancient Egypt out of my mind.  Besides ….' she paused then smiled guilty '…. these books sure look a whole lot more interesting than Smithson's Compendium of poisons.' 

 She raised an eyebrow at him archly 'Whaddaya say?  Care to join me in a little research into the Ancient civilization?'

Jesse grinned broadly, reaching out his hand for one of the books 'Well what are we waiting for?' he asked.

Maggie Taylor smiled.  It was a rare smile and one that lit up her face with an inner radiance, hinting at the attractive woman behind the usually austere façade.  With steel grey hair cut practically short, a style that somehow suited her brusque, no nonsense approach to life, Maggie was a rare commodity - a successful woman in a man's world.  One of the few female Professors in her field, she had fought tooth and nail to get as far as she had.  Working twice as hard as men with only an ounce of her talent, she was a formidable woman with extensive expertise.  As a chemist she was renowned for her work, as a woman she was renowned for her nerve.

  'Looking good Eric' she praised, the twang of her Australian accent softened for once, as her grad student adjusted his glasses in nervous concentration.  

Eric Scott smiled back bleakly and mopped at the sweat on his forehead.  This was a delicate procedure; the slightest lapse and they'd have to start over.  Peering over his shoulder, Vicky Harris chewed her lip nervously, twisting a strand of her auburn hair around her finger.  The tension in the room was palpable, as slowly, oh so slowly; Eric coaxed the clear liquid from the pipette, his hand hovering over the delicate material stretched tightly across the micro slide.

'Nice and slow' Maggie muttered to herself, mantra-like, as first one drop, then another spread across the slide, transforming the precious material in both colour and consistency. 

Vicky held her breath and leaned closer, but Eric didn't notice.  He could feel his hands trembling, could taste the salty perspiration as it dripped down his face, moistening his dry lips.  His curly blonde hair was darkened with sweat and his trademark Hawaiian shirt, underneath his starched white coat, clung wetly to his back.  Pausing he took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses again.  He had to get a grip, couldn't afford to slip up now.  For these crucial few seconds, the success of the project depended entirely upon him.

'Almost there' Maggie breathed excitedly, though whether she was talking to herself or to Eric, Vicky couldn't be sure.  

Vicky herself kept quiet; terrified that the tiniest noise might distract him.  Eric swallowed hard, only one more to go – he was almost home and dry.

BANG! 

Like a pistol being fired or the detonation of a bomb, the noise so sudden and unexpected seemed deafening.  In his fright, Eric dropped the pipette, letting it slip helplessly through fingers slick with sweat, to crash and splinter, the pure liquid swamping the delicate material, destroying it.  

'No!' Maggie cried, instinctively rushing forward to salvage it, but to no avail. $3000 and hundreds of hours of research were gone in less than a second.  

Vicky looked round wildly, to see who had dared fling the lab door open with such force; such negligent abandon.  Still swinging from the impact with the nearby bench, that door must surely have been kicked?  Bursting through the door like that had been an explosive and expensive entrance.  From the look on Maggie's face, things were about to get a whole lot hotter.  Vicky had no doubt that whoever was behind this latest sabotage of the project; Maggie would make them pay.  

Framed within the doorway stood a tall, athletic looking man - light hair, blue eyes, square jaw and a grim expression.  Beside him, a cool looking blonde in a leather jacket completed the picture.  He looked familiar Vicky thought, and then she paled – they both held guns.

Reflexively, all three chemists slowly raised their hands in the air.  Maggie had blanched visibly, but she refused to be intimidated in her own lab. 

'Take what you want' she said firmly 'but don't hurt us'.  Despite her pallor, her voice was strong and commanding.  There was little doubt that she was a woman used to being in control.

Eric looked from Maggie to the gunman and back, his thoughts running so fast his mind couldn't keep up 'Maggie …' he gulped, but she silenced him with a look.

Vicky was frozen to the spot; her whole world suddenly coalesced into this one moment in time.

Slowly Steve lowered his gun and reached calmly for his badge, displaying it as protocol required.

 'I'm Detective Steve Sloan and this is my partner Sergeant Archer' he said.  He looked at the three, appraising them coolly 'We're not here to hurt anyone.  As long as you co-operate, we'll make this as quick and painless as we can'.

'The police?' Maggie started in surprise.

'That's right Ma'am' Tanis affirmed holstering her gun as she followed Steve into the room.

'What do you want from us?' Maggie asked sternly

Steve looked at her keenly 'It's not so much a question of what' he paused meaningfully, 'more like who'.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head.  

As if in slow motion Vicky looked at him.  For a moment their eyes locked and then he was moving towards her.  Everything was a blur.  She thought she heard Maggie gasp, maybe Eric called her name, but it was difficult to hear anything above the sudden roaring that filled her ears.  The edges of her vision wavered dangerously, black spots dancing before her eyes.  She teetered forwards, reaching out blindly for support.  And then a hand gripped her arm tightly, painfully, and she was aware of nothing but the cold steel of the cuffs that bit cruelly into her wrists.  She wanted to speak, but she couldn't, the ability to form sentences, words, thoughts; was gone.

'Vicky Harris, I'm arresting you for the murders of David Summers, Arnold Peterson and Ignacious Schwenck.' Steve intoned coldly, as he began escorting the young woman out of the lab 'You have the right to remain silent, should you give up that right anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.  Do you understand ?'

She could only nod mutely, his words made no sense.  She stumbled blindly, but a firm hand against her back kept her moving forwards.  As they turned the corner they passed an elderly, distinguished looking man, waiting in the hallway.  He was a stranger and yet his face was kind.  For no reason she could explain, she felt drawn to him.  In the midst of all that was chaotic he seemed strangely real.  Instinctively Vicky reached out to him.

'Please' she whispered 'Please, it wasn't me.' 

'Come on' Steve ordered firmly, brusquely pulling her away 'Let's go.' 

As she was escorted away she turned, looking back at the older man over her shoulder, a single tear rolling down her cheek 'It wasn't me'.

As he watched the girl being led away by Steve and Tanis, Mark sighed heavily.  The unease he had been fighting so hard to overcome was getting stronger by the second.  Taking a deep breath he entered the lab.  

Looking around him, he was struck by the shocked and frozen faces of the two people left behind.


	24. Chapter 26

**Author's note: Sorry it's taken me a while to update, thanks for being patient!!**

'We know Vicky.'  Steve Sloan said coldly 'We know everything.'

Seated across from her in the interrogation room, his clear blue eyes were like chips of ice.  'We know about the affair you were having' he bluffed brusquely 'we know that you were the mystery woman in Cairo, staying at Peterson's hotel'.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Vicky looked desperately at his partner – she was a woman, may be she'd understand.

Steve caught the look 'Don't expect Sergeant Archer to cut you any slack' he drawled 'When it comes to murder one, we have a pretty clear policy.' He paused meaningfully 'It's called death row'.

Finally finding her voice, face pale and eyes filled with tears Vicky looked at  him desperately 'I didn't do it' she whispered.

'Gee' Tanis spoke for the first time 'ya know that's what they all say'.  She looked at Steve and shrugged casually 'You'd think someone could come up with something a little more original'.

'But why?' Vicky said brokenly 'Why me?'

'Simple' Steve said 'Not only did you have motive and opportunity for all three murders, your prints were on the key chain found in Schwenk's office, and your number was stored on his phone, which told us he'd had contact with you several times just prior to his death'.

'But ..' Vicky began

'Peterson ended the affair with you didn't he?' Tanis interrupted, matter of factly 'When it came to the crunch, he told you he couldn't leave his wife'.  She looked at Vicky knowingly 'This great man, a man you'd worshipped and adored, tossed you aside like a worthless piece of fluff.'

'And you couldn't deal with that could you Vicky?' Steve continued, getting up from his seat and perching on the edge of the table to lean closer to her 'He was the love of your life and just like that it was over'.  He shook his head sadly 'So you killed him.   If you couldn't have him then no one else could either.  That was it wasn't it?'

Vicky shook her head, wide-eyed and trembling, looking unseeingly from one to the other 'No' she croaked 'that's not how it was'.

Standing up, Steve turned away, momentarily hiding his face from the girl who shivered uncomfortably on the inadequate chair before him.  Everything about this room was purposely designed to make a prisoner feel on edge - the depressing grey décor, the rudimentary furniture, the one bald electric light bulb.  He grimaced, the contrived intimidation reminded him of 'nam.

He swallowed hard.  This was tough.  It wasn't in his nature to scare and bully young women.  Okay, so it was a role he was forced to play, part of the job, but he sure didn't like himself much right now.  A part of him was desperate to take pity on her; in her current state she seemed so vulnerable and lost.  But the reality was that this young woman was a killer.  He had to ignore her seeming fragility, her youthfulness and the tears in those big blue eyes.  Savagely he forced himself to think back to the mutilated bodies, the careful and cold-blooded planning that must have taken place, the lives and families that had been destroyed.  

He took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening.  Right now, intimidating this little girl, he felt like a louse, no better than the soldiers who had interrogated him, submitted him to ritual humiliation all those years ago.  Fighting down his disgust, he clenched his fist.  He might not like it, but if hardening his heart was what it took to get a cold-blooded killer behind bars then he'd deal.  He had to.

Having noticed his hesitation Tanis looked at Steve worriedly.  He was definitely wavering.  She didn't like this any more than he did, but they couldn't afford to ease off now. The evidence against Vicky Harris was pretty damning, but to get the confession it was vital that they not be swayed by the girl's looks and demeanour. Tanis sighed, from past experience she knew that youth and beauty did not negate the ability to kill.  Neither did gender.  As a woman, she was wise to the power of feminine wiles in the manipulation of men.  A few tears here, a fluttering of the eye lashes there, it didn't take much.  Steve Sloan might be a tough guy on the outside, but he had a soft centre; to a damsel in distress, he was as vulnerable as the next guy.  

Resolutely Tanis bit her lip.  She hoped Steve would stay strong, but in situations like this it was easy to get caught up in the emotional intensity, to lose sight of reality.  She sighed again; this would have been so much easier on them both if the killer had turned out to be a huge guy who'd put up a fight.  Instead they had a young girl who was crumbling in front of their eyes.  Still, she reminded herself firmly, she'd joined the LAPD not the Samaritans; acting tough came with the turf. 

Tanis got up to stand beside Steve.  Imperceptible to Vicky, she placed a discrete hand on his arm and squeezed encouragingly, willing him to continue.  Snapped back to reality by Tanis' touch and instinctively reassured that she understood his dilemma; Steve turned back to Vicky, his cold expression firmly back in place.

 'Let me tell you how I think things went' he said.  'You arrive here from England; don't know a soul.  You're working closely with this hot shot Professor that you've always admired.  You work long hours together, no one else around and maybe you're infatuated.  Older guy, younger girl, he's flattered.  The two of you start to get close.  Things heat up and you think you've met the love of your life'.  He paused looking at her sternly 'But then you want more.  You want him to leave his wife'.  He smiled ruefully at her 'It's an old story'.

Smoothly Tanis took over 'But he wouldn't leave his wife would he Vicky?'  She sighed deeply 'They never do, believe me I know'.  

Steve looked at Tanis sharply; there had been real feeling behind that last remark.  Either she was a damn good actress attempting to manipulate the girl or she really was speaking from experience.  Had she been hurt in love, had her heart broken by a married man?  Despite himself, his interest was awakened.  He knew so little about her life outside of the office.  Surprised by a sudden rush of feelings, a desire to know more, he shook his head in confusion.  He felt strangely jealous of the man in her past, but at the same time protective; keen to make sure she wasn't hurt again.  

There was a pause.  Tanis had expected Steve to jump in, but when she looked across discretely, hoping to give him his cue, he was staring into space.  She grimaced. Okay, so they hadn't done this in a while, but usually they worked well together. Almost telepathic in their interchange, verbally bouncing off each other, usually they skilfully maintained the momentum, keeping their subjects confused and under pressure.  Today they weren't so slick.  She risked another quick glance.  He still looked tired, may be that was it, or may be she'd been right the first time, maybe he couldn't handle the situation.  She frowned; her instincts told her there was something more, something in his expression that she couldn't read, but right now she didn't have the time for analysis.

Pulling herself together she continued addressing Vicky brusquely 'And when he won't leave his wife, that's when it hits you, just what a fool you've been, how he's used you'.  She paused 'And that's when you fall apart'.

'Only you didn't fall apart did you Vicky?' Steve said.  To Tanis' relief he seemed to be back in the game 'You knew exactly what you were gonna do, how you were gonna get your revenge'.  

He paused before lowering his voice menacingly 'What was the poison you hit him with Vicky?  What exactly were you whipping up in those test tubes when you were meant to be doing his research?' 

Sternly Steve folded his arms 'What ever it was; you were cooking it up in the lab that first day I saw you.  It knocked me out then, just like it did when I came into contact with it later ..' he paused meaningfully 'on the bodies of the victims'.

'The project' she whispered 'I was working on the project'.

Steve frowned at her, straining to hear.  He exchanged a glance with Tanis who shrugged, the girl was babbling.  Taking a deep breath he changed tack 'Using that blow-pipe was real clever, put us right off the scent.  That one fooled even my father; and that sure doesn't happen often'.  

'Blow pipe?' Vicky said in confusion

'Given the origins of the murder weapon, you knew that we'd suspect an Egyptologist' Steve continued  'Maybe you were hoping to put the heat on Summers, after all, he and Peterson were in Egypt together.  But then there was a hitch wasn't there Vicky?  You had to kill him too'.

'We weren't the only ones who found out about the affair were we?' Tanis interjected bluntly, before Vicky had time to gather her thoughts 'Summers found out didn't he?  He saw the two of you together in Egypt and after Peterson got killed he was gonna expose you as Peterson's lover'.  

Tanis looked at the girl keenly 'You couldn't let that happen could you Vicky? You knew that if the affair came out you'd be the prime suspect for Peterson's murder.  We'd haul you in here so fast you wouldn't know what hit you'.

Vicky gasped.  She couldn't take it in.  Everything was happening so fast.  She opened her mouth to protest, but Steve jumped in.

 'You know the plan worked really well, didn't it?' he said 'I have to admit you had me stumped.  You know you would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for Schwenk.  I'm guessing he found out about the whole deal.  Was he blackmailing you Vicky?  Is that why there were so many phone calls to your lab?' He looked at her sternly 'Why else would an archaeologist be communicating so frequently with a chemist?'

Finally finding her voice Vicky looked at Steve and Tanis 

'The project' she whispered.


	25. Chapter 27

'Arnold Peterson, David and Natasha Summers, Ignasious Schwenk, and myself were co-founders of an innovative, collaborative research project' Maggie stated quietly.

'What?' Mark exclaimed

 'It was a project so secret, that even I don't know the full details' she continued dispassionately.  'What I do know is that this project was gonna set the world of Egyptology on fire'.  

She paused allowing the information to sink in and looked at him appraisingly.  Seated across from him in the laboratory, she liked what she saw.  There was strength and intelligence behind those shrewd blue eyes.  The snow white hair coupled with the well-cut, navy, double breasted suit lent an air of distinction.  His manner was courteous, in an old fashioned gentlemanly sort of way, and yet she had no doubt that behind the amiable, distinguished façade lay a mind sharp as a razor and a will to match.  

Maggie hadn't reached her current position without developing a certain degree of perceptiveness, an intuition, particularly where men were concerned.  She prided herself on being an accurate judge of character.  Doctor Mark Sloan was not a man to be taken lightly, whatever harmless or hapless impression he hoped to create. Right now he had been taken by surprise by the information she had imparted, but in contrast to a lesser man, he wasn't flustered.  Rationally, logically he was reviewing what she'd said, that sharp mind assessing each and every possibility.  Instinctively she knew his next question would be an insightful one.  She was not disappointed.

'Professor Taylor' Mark said slowly 'When my son and his partner burst in here you told them to take what they wanted but not to hurt anyone.'

She nodded 'That's right, I did'.

'And yet' Mark continued 'when they identified themselves as police officers you seemed surprised'.

'Also correct' she agreed.

He stroked his moustache thoughtfully 'Two armed assailants burst into your lab and you don't seem at all shocked, but when they tell you that they're police officers that surprises you'.  He looked at her closely 'Professor Taylor, if you didn't think they were police officers, who exactly did you think they were and is it really so usual to be held at gun point in your own laboratory?'

She took a deep breath 'To be brutally honest Doctor Sloan, I thought they were saboteurs here to destroy our research, to steal our notes, to obliterate the project.  So many things have gone wrong, missing equipment, mysterious delays and then of course the murders'.  

She smiled ironically 'You know Vicky thought the project was cursed?  Silly girl had been spending too much time with the archaeologists'.  She looked at Mark keenly 'I'm a little more cynical and a lot more experienced.  I don't believe in superstitious hocus pocus. Doctor Sloan, whatever has gone wrong with the project; there's a human hand behind it'.  She paused 'I've had my suspicions for a while now that a rival research group is out to make sure that this study is never completed'.  Her voice was almost fierce, eyes burning with determination 'We're so close, so damn close.   Despite everything we could still succeed'.

Mark scratched his head, thinking hard 'Do you really believe people would resort to murder over a research project?'

She laughed, but the sound was harsh, bitter 'Oh come now Doctor Sloan, you're a medical man.  Surely you can appreciate the money, power and prestige a ground breaking research project can bring?'

Mark sighed, his thoughts going back to other cases.  She was right, of course she was right.  Money, power, status, he'd seen it before and no doubt he'd see it again.  It never ceased to amaze him what motivated people to kill, the strength of those base emotions – greed, envy, lust, pride.  

'Professor Taylor' he said candidly 'I appreciate your point, but you know I still can't help wondering what's so special about this project of yours that you'd expect an armed gunman to attack you in your lab'.  He spread his hands and shrugged, smiling benignly.

Maggie smiled back tightly.  He was baiting her, she knew it, but what the hell, she'd told him this much, she had nothing to lose by telling him more.  She took a deep breath and faced him, speaking slowly and clearly.

'With our chemical technology combined with their archaeological expertise, we were going to be able to unlock some of the biggest mysteries of all time.  Can you imagine the amount of money people would pay to discover the secrets of the Pharaohs?  With Arnold's knowledge of carbon dating and David's expertise in archaeological fieldwork technology, we believed that a detailed analysis of a mummy could be completed without the sarcophagus being disturbed.  If all had gone to plan we would have been able to disclose Tutankhamen's height and weight, his facial features, his age, the cause of his death, may be even what he ate for breakfast – all without disturbing the corpse inside'.

Mark let out a low whistle 'I see' he replied 'And I can understand why you would wanna keep that a secret'.  He paused 'But one thing still puzzles me.'

Taking the bait Maggie looked at him curiously.

'Where exactly does the Natron come in?' he asked with a slight smile.

She swallowed in surprise; he was sharper than she'd thought.  She'd been right about this Doctor Sloan; he was smart, very smart.  Recovering herself she smiled back 'And what makes you think Natron is an issue?'

'Well' Mark said 'Isn't it an embalming fluid used by the Ancient Egyptians in their mummification process?'

'I'm not an archaeologist' Maggie began 

'No'  Mark interrupted 'you're a chemist and Natron …' he said firmly 'is a chemical compound – sodium carbonate and bicarbonate if I'm not mistaken'.

'You seem very well informed Doctor' Maggie said smoothly.

Mark smiled at her 'Oh well you see I've been doing a little research of my own' he replied genially.

She shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence 'Part of our research has been into the drying effects of Natron, since it contributes to the aging process of the corpse' she said reasonably.  'In fact both Vicky and Eric have spent most of their time doing exploratory work on carbon compounds to replicate Natron'. 

 As if remembering his existence for the first time, she looked across at the boy.  He was huddled on his lab stool, staring blankly into space.  Despite the best efforts of herself and Doctor Sloan, Eric Scott was obviously still in shock.  In his current state he was of no use to anyone.  As soon as she finished up here she'd drive him home.

'Is that right Eric?' Mark said gently, placing a reassuring hand on the young man's arm.

Slowly Eric nodded.  Meeting Mark's gaze for the first time he turned pleading eyes to the doctor 'Vicky didn't do it Doctor Sloan, she wouldn't … she couldn't'.

'That's okay son' Mark replied 'I don't think she did it either'.

'Why didn't you tell us this before?' Steve asked angrily, still struggling to come to terms with the new information.

Vicky looked at him desperately 'I wanted to, but we were sworn to secrecy.  If anything got out it could jeopardise the project.  Professor Taylor and Doctor. Schwenk wanted everything to carry on as normal.   Me, Eric and Nate; we were told that it was vital not to mention the project to anyone'.

'Not even the police?' Tanis said in disbelief.

Biting her lip ruefully Vicky nodded.

Steve and Tanis exchanged glances. 

'So you broke the law because one of your professors told you to?' Steve said harshly 'Do you realise that right now I could charge you with obstructing the course of justice'.

'I just …' she stammered

'You just what' Steve said shortly.  His patience was tried to the limits – who the hell did these academics think they were?

'You don't understand what it's like, the hierarchy, the power they have' she gasped.

'You're right I don't' Steve said in disgust.

'And the phone calls from Schwenk?' Tanis asked, although she could already guess the answer.

'About the project' Vicky said dully 'With David …' she corrected herself quickly 'I mean Professor Summers gone, Doctor Schwenk was heading up the archaeology side.  He had quite a few questions about the exploratory studies Eric and I were carrying out'.

'How do you explain your prints on the key chain?' Steve said firmly, not ready to give up quite yet.

Vicky looked at him.  Her face was still pale, her eyes red, but her voice was getting a little stronger 'John Anderson, the porter, works across both sites' she explained.  'Since I started at UCLM we've become pretty friendly.  He's really good about me working late; sometimes he even lends me his keys.  It's against regulations of course, but John isn't one for sticking to the rules'.

'And he lent you his keys last night?' Steve asked ruefully.

She nodded miserably 'But I put them back in his office Lieutenant, I swear'.

'And the affair with Peterson?' Tanis prompted.

Again the girl shook her head 'Professor Peterson was a great man and it was a privilege to work with him, but no I didn't have those kinds of feelings for him'.  She paused and choked back a sob 'If anything he was kind of a father figure to me.'

'But it was you in Cairo' Steve said stubbornly 'The description we finally got from the hotel clerk fits you exactly'.

She nodded. 'They were both in Cairo to carry out some field research for the project, although of course that was a secret'.

'So as a cover Peterson presented at a conference and Summers went on a dig' Tanis surmised.  Vicky nodded again 'Slick' Tanis said to Steve 'You have to admit it's slick'.

'Too slick' he groaned 'All this secrecy hasn't made our job any easier and it may have cost three men their lives'.  He looked at Vicky 'and what were you doing in Cairo Miss Harris, assisting on the project?'

The girl blushed and nodded once more, her eyes fixed firmly on the table.  Reading the signs Tanis raised her eyebrows 'Is there something you'd like to tell us Vicky?' she paused before continuing more gently 'Maybe something you haven't been able to tell anyone before?'

Vicky looked at Steve apologetically 'The night Professor Peterson was killed' she said slowly 'I told you I was at the cinema, alone' she paused 'I wasn't, I was with someone'.

'Who?' Steve asked bemused.  His theory was all shot to hell and right now he was lost in a sea of confusion.  Tanis was quicker. 

'David Summers?' she prompted.

Vicky looked back down at the table, suddenly subdued 'Yes' she said quietly.

 'You and David Summers!' Steve exclaimed, the penny finally dropping. Vicky remained silent.

'I think you've told enough lies Miss Harris' Steve said impatiently 'You owe us the truth'.

Vicky took a deep breath.  Looking at helplessly at Tanis she started 'David and I ….' pausing she reached for a tissue to swipe at tears that had sprung unbidden from her eyes.  She tried again 'David and I …..'

'Were having an affair' Tanis finished off for her.

'Yes' Vicky replied 'But I didn't kill him' she turned a face wet with tears to look at Steve 'I loved him and he loved me'.  For the first time since the arrest she regained some of her spirit.  Raising her chin defiantly she looked both cops in the eye.  'He wanted to carry on seeing me, but his wife had found out and said it had to stop.  She said it would ruin his career and hers.  He told her that he couldn't end it and she said if he didn't find a way to stop it then she would'.

**Author's note:  Thanks for your continuing encouragement – it's a complicated plot, but things are starting to unravel (I hope!!)**


	26. Chapter 28

Steve dropped dejectedly into his office chair, his head still spinning from the latest and most unexpected development in the case.  Lost in his thoughts, he was oblivious to the hustle and bustle around him.  Phones rang, doors slammed and colleagues called back and forth to each other, as they tapped away at their key boards, keen to finish up reports and head on home.  Despite the lateness of the hour, the precinct was still jumping and a constant stream of people passed his desk - police officers in uniform, tattooed bikers, low rent call girls, businessmen, even mothers with small children – downtown they saw them all.  But right now Steve saw nothing.  Following him in five minutes later Tanis smiled ruefully, he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 Moving aside the numerous files and papers that cluttered his desk, she placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

'Drink up Sloan' she instructed 'You look like you need it'.

Steve sighed 'I was so sure it was her' he said shaking his head sadly.  He shrugged, looking up at Tanis glumly 'You know I really thought I'd figured it all out.  I couldn't believe that I'd beaten Dad to it for once'.  He paused, pulling a face 'I should have known it was never gonna happen'.

It was said as a joke, albeit an ironic one, but she thought she detected - what ?  - A hint of bitterness, certainly dejection, maybe, just maybe a touch of self-pity?  Momentarily she was surprised, but then she'd never thought about it from Steve's perspective before.  She, like everyone else, thoroughly appreciated Mark Sloan's brilliance – his status on the force was fast becoming legendary.  But now she thought about it, really thought about it, she guessed it had to be kinda tough on Steve.  He was never anything but full of admiration for Mark, but Steve Sloan was a proud man - having his father solving so many of his cases must be pretty hard to take.  

There was no doubt that Steve was a good cop, you didn't make Lieutenant by being a slouch, and yet it couldn't be denied that Mark had that something extra – that touch of genius that marked him out as special.   He was a veritable master of abstract thinking - could see patterns that others couldn't see.  Combine that with those rare flashes of insight and he left lesser mortals trailing in his wake.  How could Steve or anyone else compete with that?  

She looked at him, slumped in his chair, half-heartedly flicking through the papers that littered his desk.  Steve had never said anything before, but that wasn't unusual – since when did Steve Sloan discuss his feelings with her or anyone else?  Briefly, she wondered if Mark knew that he sometimes made his son feel inadequate.  She didn't think so.  She knew Steve had an unusually close relationship with his father, but couldn't picture him telling Mark how he felt about this.  It'd be like admitting a weakness and Steve Sloan would never do that. 

 She sighed, in a way that _was his weakness.  If only he didn't try to do everything by himself, if only he'd open up a little more, let someone in.  Everybody needed a shoulder to cry on now and then, especially cops.  If she didn't have Steve and her sister to talk to, she'd have gone crazy by now, she knew it.  Steve had his father and his friends, and he had her, and yet nothing. _

 She smiled ruefully.  Sometimes it was tough being his partner, not knowing what was going on in that head of his, what emotions were brewing beneath the surface.  She was always on the outside, never privy to his inner thoughts.  As partners she'd always thought they worked well together, but did they?  When did they ever talk, really talk?  When it came down to it, they'd never really ventured beyond the intricacies of their latest case or how the Raiders were doing this season.  

She shook her head - Did that make her a bad partner?  Suddenly she smiled; she was talking like they were married!  She sounded like a disgruntled wife.  They were partners; nothing more.  She grinned - if she found him hard to figure at work, how would it be as his wife?  Abruptly she paused, was that why he was still single?  Was he was afraid to let anyone get close?  It was an intriguing question; in fact she was surprised at just how intriguing it was, but she knew there was no time to contemplate it right now.  Instead she filed it away, to ponder over in a more private moment, perhaps relaxing in a bubble bath or in the small hours when sleep wouldn't come. 

She sneaked another look at Steve.  He'd given up on the files, now he was staring dejectedly into his coffee.  He looked so lost, so alone and in that split second her heart went out to him.  She longed to comfort him, to reach out to him, but that wasn't the way they operated.  They didn't have that type of relationship.  To Steve she was just one of the guys; he'd more likely expect her to join him in downing a few beers, than to hold his hand. 

'And whose fault is that?' a little voice whispered in her head.  She'd been so desperate not to let being a woman stand in the way of her career; that she'd clamped down on her femininity, created this androgynous, professional identity.  No wonder guys like Steve didn't notice her; looked instead at women like Natasha Summers.

She rolled her eyes, giving herself a mental shake.  Since when did she allow women like Natasha to make her feel inadequate?  Obviously Steve wasn't the only one feeling maudlin tonight – her own emotions were throwing her for a loop right now too.  It seemed like the case was getting to them both.

'Enough already' she thought to herself sternly, now was not the time to go to pieces.  Whether he knew it or not, her partner needed her.  It was her turn to be the strong one.

She looked at him again, chewing her lip meditatively.  His coffee remained untouched.  He was back to flicking through the files again, but this time his movements were irritable, his frustration mounting.  She sighed.  She wanted to help, but how?  He sure didn't make it easy.  In his current mood, offering words of cold comfort, she was likely to get her head bitten off.  And yet, she mused, just now he had let his feelings show at least a little – a rare flash of vulnerability, before retreating into the more familiar anger and irritation.   

He'd been close to the edge for a while now, snapping at her, almost taking a pop at Wyatt and now this.  What was going on?  She paused suddenly, as all at once it dawned on her.  Was he feeling inadequate?  She gasped in surprise, is that what all this was about - self-doubt?  Is that why he was driving himself so hard, going all loose cannon on her?   No wonder Wyatt's comments had gotten to him; in his brutish teasing Wyatt had inadvertently hit a nerve, had voiced what Steve had been thinking himself.  Intuitively she knew she was right.  And there was more.  In his own way, Steve had been looking for help.  He was looking for reassurance, a life line, someone to tell him that he could still do his job.  Right now he was looking to her.  

She looked up, wondering what to say, how to play it.  Kennedy, one of the Uniforms was approaching, a stack of papers in his arms.  Spotting him heading in their direction, Tanis hurriedly waved him away.  The junior officer took in her warning glance and the bad tempered way her partner was tossing files about his desk. Without a moment's hesitation, he about-turned and quickly back tracked to the safety of the coffee machine.  The witness statement could wait – Lieutenant Sloan in a temper was not something he planned on experiencing personally. 

Having dispatched the Uniform, Tanis sat down opposite Steve.  She placed her hand on his, stopping him from flicking through the files.  Gently taking the files from him, she set them back down on the desk and pointedly handed him the now cooling coffee.  

'Drink up' she said 'I don't get coffee for just anyone ya know'.

Finally he smiled.

'Look Steve' she said firmly 'You're a good cop.  Vicky Harris, Schwenck, they lied to you that's all.  With the evidence we had, you came to a logical conclusion' she grinned at him 'Hey, I thought the exact same thing myself'.

He sighed 'I guess so'.

'I know so' she replied primly 'Now snap out of it Sloan, we still have work to do'.

He knew she was right.  Now was not the time to be wallowing in self-pity, but he was tired and frustrated and more than anything ready for a couple of beers.  No scratch that - a whole lotta beers.   He sighed, what was going on with him lately?  He was losing control, letting his temper get the better of him and just now he'd almost given in to the temptation to confide in Tanis, to tell her how inadequate he was feeling, 

Suddenly angry with himself, he reached irritably for the case files 'So I guess we're back to square one' he groused.

'Not quite' Tanis replied archly 'Vicky Harris just pointed us to our next suspect.'

'She did?' Steve said in confusion.  Okay he was tired and miserable, but right now he couldn't think of anything that Vicky had said that would point them in the right direction

'She did' Tanis replied with a grin 'so drink up, we have a killer to catch'.

***

'Hey guys' Mark said as he entered the pathology lab 'I saw the light on, working late?'

They turned round, both surprised by the sound of his voice.  Obviously they hadn't been expecting company.  Mark smiled fondly; they were up to something that much was clear.  Books and papers were scattered across Amanda's desk and Jesse's hair was sticking out in all directions, as if he'd been repeatedly running his fingers through it.

'Mark, where have you been?' Amanda admonished him 'I've been trying to reach you for the last hour.'

'We've got some great news' Jesse interrupted eagerly, before Mark had a chance to reply 'Tell him Amanda' he said excitedly.

'Well', Amanda said, eyes shinning 'I think I've finally figured out what the substance is that's on the bodies.  It's a compound called …'

'Natron?'  Mark interrupted, smiling at the astonished looks that greeted him 'A combination of sodium carbonate and bicarbonate – I believe that the Ancient Egyptians used it to embalm the bodies of the dead.'

Amanda blew out her cheeks 'Mark, how do you do it?' she said wearily.

He shrugged good-naturedly and sat down next to them, helping himself to a cup of coffee from the large jug on the desk between them 'Lets just say I followed a hunch'.

'Well your hunch was right' Jesse said.  'Amanda ran some tests on Steve's blood and they're pretty conclusive'.

Mark raised an inquiring eyebrow, as Amanda pulled Steve's notes and passed them over.   He pushed his glasses to the end of his nose and with an expert eye, perused the notes swiftly. 

'Carbon poisoning?' he asked, looking at Amanda over the rim of his glasses.

'That's right' she replied 'He has elevated levels of carbonic enzymes in his bloodstream.'

'Well that would certainly explain why he's been feeling drowsy and nauseous, and getting headaches' Mark said thoughtfully 'But why haven't we been affected?'

'I think we have' Amanda replied 'it's just that our bodies are breaking down the enzymes more effectively than Steve's'.  She looked at him seriously 'Mark, I don't have to tell you the kind of pressure Steve's been under lately.  We all know he hasn't been taking care of himself properly – not sleeping, not eating' she bit her lip 'his body is beginning to pay the price'.

Mark sighed 'I'll talk to him honey, but right now I don't think he's gonna wanna hear it'.  He paused 'Steve and Tanis arrested a suspect tonight.'

'They did? Why that's wonderful' Amanda beamed.

'Who is it?' Jesse asked excitedly.

'Vicky Harris' Mark replied 'One of the chemistry grad students'.

Jesse nodded sagely 'That would make sense; the killer would need a background in chemistry to manufacture the Natron'. 

'You don't look too happy Mark?' Amanda observed shrewdly.

'You know I'm not' he admitted.  Screwing up his face he frowned 'Something just doesn't feel right'.

'What?' Jesse asked intrigued.

'Well' Mark replied 'The killer specifically used Egyptian weapons and by embalming the bodies, followed an Egyptian ritual - right?'

'Right' Amanda replied and Jesse nodded his head in agreement.

'Now why would a chemist do that?' Mark asked, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms.

They thought for a moment, and then Jesse beamed 'May be they wanted to frame someone!' He said triumphantly.

'It's possible Jess' Mark allowed 'but I still think that it's more significant to the killer than that.  If you look at the three murders, they're almost ritualistic in the way they were carried out

'So you're saying we should be looking for someone with a background in rituals?' Jesse asked.

Mark nodded.  There's something else too.'

'What' Amanda asked 'C'mon Mark, don't hold out on us now.'

Mark sighed 'Vicky Harris is convinced that the project is cursed.  What if she's right?'

Amanda laughed 'Oh come on Mark, I thought we'd been through all this.  I thought we agreed that it was all just silly superstition'.

He looked at her seriously 'Superstition can be powerful if you believe in it'.

Jesse frowned thoughtfully 'So what you're saying is that the victims all _believed that they were cursed?'_

'No' Mark replied 'I think they _were cursed.'_

'Huh?' Jesse said, puzzled.

Amanda frowned, she really had no idea where this was going 'Mark what are you saying?' she asked.

He sighed 'What if someone really did believe that the research team were disturbing something sacred, something that they had no right to disturb'.  He looked at them gravely 'Maybe they took the 'supernatural law' into their own hands'.

Jesse's eyes sparked with sudden understanding 'You mean, you think that the killer is acting out a curse?'

'Yes, Jesse' Mark smiled ruefully 'That's exactly what I think'.

'But who would believe something like that?' Amanda asked incredulously 'They'd have to be some sort of fanatic, out of their mind!'

Mark sighed, his face lined with worry 'That's what I'm afraid of'.


	27. Chapter 29

**Author's note:  Thank you so much for the lovely reviews on the previous chapter – really helped me to keep going.  Sorry for the delay in postings, things have been hectic.  I'm also hoping to catch up on my reading and reviewing soon!**

'Damn it' Mark cursed, dropping the dish to the floor with a crash and sucking on the fingers he'd just burnt.  He shook his head ruefully, as a medical consultant you'd think he'd know better than to pick up a hot dish with his bare hands.

'Mark are you okay?' Amanda called from the living room, her voice filled with concern.

'I'm fine honey' he said a little sheepishly 'The dish was just a little hotter than I expected is all'.

Putting down the magazine she'd been flipping through, she joined him in the kitchen 'Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?' she offered.  

He looked exhausted. The worry about Steve, the sleepless nights, they were obviously beginning to take their toll.  She smiled ruefully; it was easy to forget that Mark was in his seventies, he was always so vibrant, so alive.  They were all guilty of taking his energy and stamina for granted, but getting him to take things easy?  She sighed, it was all too apparent where Steve got his stubborn streak from.  Mark was a great doctor, but a little less good at taking his own advice.

He smiled at her affectionately 'I think I've got everything covered, you just sit down and relax, you've been on your feet all day'.

Settling herself on a stool at the kitchen counter, Amanda picked up a knife and began chopping the carrots Mark had started and subsequently abandoned.  She grinned at him defiantly.  Resignedly Mark grinned back.  He should have known he wouldn't get away that easily.  Reaching for the oven gloves he retrieved the pot from the floor – no damage done, the meatloaf was sizzling away nicely, the aroma so tantalising he could almost taste it already.  Humming cheerfully to himself, he replaced the dish in the oven, and taking a seat next to Amanda, he turned his attention to the green beans.

'So' she said eagerly, helping herself to a piece of carrot 'How do you think Jesse is doing on his date?'

Mark looked at his watch and smiled 'It's been what half an hour?'  Amanda nodded.  He winked at her 'I think she'll have fallen for his charms by now'.

Amanda snorted 'That's if he got to the restaurant on time, he was running awfully late by the time we left the path lab'.  She sighed 'If I know Jesse he'll turn up at 'Pierre's' with his shirt hanging out, his tie at half mast and his hair looking like he's had electro shock!'

Mark sighed good-naturedly, she was right, he could just imagine Jesse tearing up to the smartest restaurant in town, in a state of complete disarray, half dressed and probably having left his wallet on the kitchen table.  

'But you know I think that's part of his appeal' he said astutely 'Admit it Amanda, what woman could resist those puppy dog eyes, that little boy lost act'.

'You're right' she groaned 'When he turns that boyish charm on me, I find myself agreeing to all sorts of things I didn't mean to'.

'I presume you're talking about me' a familiar voice interrupted them.

Ditching his jacket Steve dropped heavily onto a stool beside her.  He gave them both a lopsided grin 'I've been told I'm well known at the station for my boyish charm' he joked.

Amanda smiled and leant over to give him an affectionate peck on the cheek 'You'd better believe it'.

 'Thanks', he groaned gratefully 'I needed that!'

'Tough day?' Mark asked tentatively.  He looked at his son appraisingly, trying to read his mood.  Steve seemed in reasonably good spirits, but certainly not high spirits.  As such it seemed likely that Vicky Harris had, as Mark had suspected, turned out to be a red herring.  He crossed his fingers that he was wrong, but in his heart of hearts he knew that had Steve caught the killer they'd all be in 'Bob's' right now celebrating with a bucket load of prime ribs and a crate of cold beer.  

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair 'Pretty tough, yeah'.

'Things didn't go so well with Vicky Harris huh?' Mark said gently, looking at his son with ill disguised concern.

Steve rubbed his temples wearily 'No, you were right about that' he admitted.  'Maggie Taylor corroborated her story, and we didn't have enough to hold her'.  He sighed 'we had to let her go'.

Mark placed a hand on Steve's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze 'I'm sorry son; I was really hoping you'd caught the killer'.

Steve shrugged 'Me too'.

'So what now?' Amanda asked.

'Well' Steve let out a breath and helped himself to some of the carrot Amanda had chopped 'Tanis wants to talk to Natasha Summers.  We've arranged a meeting at her office tonight'.

'David's wife?' Mark frowned thoughtfully.

'That's right' Steve replied through a mouthful of carrot.  He raised his eyebrows 'It seems that David Summers and Vicky Harris were having an affair'.  

'Nooo!' Amanda exclaimed, her eyes wide.

'Oh yeah' he replied 'And according to Vicky, Natasha found out about them too'.  He paused meaningfully 'She said that if they didn't end it, she would'.

'Really!' Mark said 'Now that is interesting'.

Helping himself to more carrot Steve eyed his father warily 'What are ya thinking Dad?  You've got that look'.

'I do?' Mark said innocently.

Amanda peered at him 'He's right, you do'.  She winked 'So Mark, do you think Natasha is the killer?'

'Well' Mark let out a breath 'You know I was just thinking that she is an archaeologist, so she would fit the profile'.  He paused contemplatively 'I'm sure there's something else too ..' 

He frowned in frustration, it was no good, the thought eluded him 'there's definitely something … I just can't put my finger on it' He tapped himself on the head lightly, as if the action would somehow jar his memory 'Now what was it?' he asked, thinking out loud.

Steve and Amanda exchanged glances, as Mark continued to gaze unseeingly into the distance, his face a picture of preoccupation.  Amanda smiled sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder 'Give yourself a break Mark, you're exhausted'.  She pushed the carrots towards him, slapping Steve's hand away as he attempted to swipe some.  Steve pulled a face and helped himself to some green beans instead.

'Here' Amanda said indicating the carrots 'concentrate on the dinner instead.  Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll come back to you when you're least expecting it'.

Mark sighed 'You know honey I'm sure you're right'.  

'Er … guys' Steve sniffed loudly 'Is it me or can anyone else smell burning? 

'The meat loaf' Mark groaned dropping his head into his hands 'I'll bet it's ruined'.

'Don't worry Mark' Amanda smiled 'I know a great recipe for a sauce to go with the meat loaf; I promise we'll never notice the difference'.  Reaching forward she gripped his arm firmly and began to pull him up from his chair 'Now you go into the lounge and put your feet up, while I get to work'.

Mark opened his mouth to protest, but one look at the set of her chin and her determined hands on hips stance told him he'd be wasting his time.  He looked to Steve for support, but his son shrugged 'Sorry Dad, but I'm with Amanda'.

Raising his hands in a gesture of defeat Mark allowed himself to be hauled up from the stool and wandered genially into the lounge in search of his glasses and the evening paper.

As the door shut behind him Amanda turned to Steve 'You know your father is getting too old to be up half the night chasing after criminals' she said sternly.

Steve sighed 'I know Amanda, but trying telling him that'.

She shook her head in frustration 'And you're not helping matters.  Do you know how worried he is about you?'

Steve shifted guiltily 'I'm fine' he protested

'You're not' she admonished 'Your bloods came back showing elevated levels of carbonic enzymes'.  He looked at her blankly 'which indicates' she continued 'your response to the compounds found on the victims' bodies is the early stages of carbon poisoning'.  

She took hold of his hand 'Look Steve, you need to be taking it easy.  Your body isn't breaking down the carbon as quickly as it should and the only way to solve that is for you to take better care of yourself'.  She looked at him; her brown eyes serious 'Promise me you will'.

He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders, hoping to lighten the atmosphere 'Hey, I'm home for dinner aren't I?'  

Tossing her the chef's apron hanging by the oven he winked 'Now where's this sauce you promised, cause I'm starving!'

Rolling her eyes Amanda sighed, they were incorrigible, both of them.


	28. Chapter 30

'Hello?  Mrs Summers? Tanis called, her voice echoing hollowly around the empty building, as she swung her flashlight a full 360 degrees.  She turned to Steve 'Doesn't look like she's here.  Doesn't look like anyone's here'.   She yawned 'It's pretty late, whaddaya wanna do now?'

He sighed, checking his watch 'She said she'd meet us here, may be she's just running late'.  

'The lights are off' Tanis pointed out reasonably 'I don't think anyone is coming back here tonight'.

Steve switched on his own light, allowing the beam to play over his partner's face 'I say we give her ten minutes' he said firmly.

Tanis rolled her eyes and he cocked an eyebrow at her 'And seeing as we're here' he continued lightly 'I guess we may as well take a look around her office'.

'Steve, we don't have a warrant' she reminded him 'And what if the Chief calls, asks us what we're doing?'

He grinned at her 'I won't tell if you don't, but just to make sure …'  he pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket and switched it off 'now we don't have to worry about anyone calling, do we?'  With that he set off along the corridor towards the elevator.  As he walked, his footsteps echoed eerily in the unnatural silence and his flashlight cast strange shadows that danced across the walls.

Hesitating for just a moment Tanis sighed.  Then she switched off her own phone and followed. 'We'd better not get caught' she grumbled 'The Chief is just waiting for an excuse to bust my ass'.

The elevator cables creaked and groaned, and Tanis shivered.  What was it about night that made everything so different?  The enveloping cloak of darkness that turned the world to monochrome had a quality all its own.  Living, breathing, transforming - even familiar terrain became alien, unpredictable.  Surreptitiously she edged closer to Steve. 'I've got a really bad feeling about this' she muttered darkly to herself.

As they emerged from the elevator into the half-light of the second floor landing she stifled a scream, reflexively grabbing Steve's arm.  He whipped around, gun at the ready, and found himself aiming at a life size replica of an Egyptian mummy, resplendent in blue and gold head dress.

'Good going Archer' he applauded dryly 'I almost put a bullet through Tutankarmen here'.

'Sorry', she apologised stiffly, releasing her hold 'This place gives me the creeps'.

'Why Archer' Steve grinned in amusement 'I never thought you'd be afraid of the dark'.

'So sue me' she retorted, feeling her cheeks growing hot.  Spinning on her heel, desperate to regain her composure, she pushed past him 'This way, let's go'.

Pausing for a moment Steve smiled to himself.  He'd never seen her flustered before – it was kinda cute.  Still grinning he loped after her down the hall.

When he reached her, she was standing by a door, her face illuminated by the beam from her flashlight. 'This is it' she said dryly 'so now what?'

Calmly Steve reached in his back pocket for his wallet and extracted his credit card.  The metallic strip gleamed in the moonlight, as he held it up for her inspection.

'I can't believe we're doing this' she groaned, looking around nervously.

'Hey come on' Steve looked at her 'You're the one who convinced me that Natasha Summers has something to hide – I'm just following your woman's intuition'.  He grinned at her and she pulled a face.

'Ten minutes Sloan and then I'm leaving' she stated firmly.

Easing the credit card down the side of the door jamb, Steve heard a satisfying click.  Tentatively he turned the handle and pushed, wincing slightly as the door creaked, the sound strangely magnified in the still of the night.

'After you' he grinned, waving her through.

'Gee thanks' she said dryly.

Stepping into the office, Tanis swung her flashlight in an arc, its beam penetrating the inky blackness within.  She let out a low whistle.  There were books and papers everywhere, they covered the desk and spilled over onto the large armchair in the corner of the room.  Manuscripts, filled with what she assumed could only be hieroglyphics, littered the floor, with seemingly no order or logic.  The shelves heaved with the weight of strange artefacts, and there were framed photos of Natasha Summers, in various exotic locations, decorating the walls.

'Boy' Tanis said, directing her light at Steve 'When it comes to doing paper work, Natasha Summers is as lousy as you are'.

'Funny' he retorted with a mock smile, turning to replace a tiny replica of the sphinx on the shelf from which he'd taken it.

'So' Tanis sighed wearily 'Any suggestions as to what we're looking for or where we start?'

Steve shrugged his shoulders 'You take the desk and I'll start with the filing cabinet'.

'Okay' she replied letting out a breath 'But the words needle and haystack come to mind'.

***

'Mark, what are we doing here?' Amanda asked tiredly, slowly rotating her neck in a vain attempt to ease the kinks. 'Don't you think it's a little late for a trip to the library?'

'It's open til 1am' he replied happily, easing the sleek black BMW into a space in the library's empty parking lot 'late night opening on Thursdays, I checked before we left the house.'

She sighed 'That's not exactly what I meant'.  

He hadn't heard her; he was already out of the car and heading towards the library building.  Amanda shook her head, as she unclipped her safety belt.  She'd seen this before.  He was on to something, or at least he thought he was.  If only it could wait til morning, they were both exhausted, but she knew that once Mark had an idea in his head nothing would dissuade him.

She caught up with him in the foyer.  Glasses pushed to the end of his nose, he was contemplating a large notice board which displayed a list of the library holdings and a plan of the building. 

'Now what did he say?' Mark muttered to himself, stroking his moustache thoughtfully, his eyes keenly scanning the board.

'What did who say?' Amanda asked in confusion.

'Nate Johnson' Mark replied absently, still concentrating on the board.

Amanda frowned 'Nate Johnson? Who's Nate Johnson?'

'That's it!' he said excitedly, jabbing his index finger at the board 'Third floor' He turned, looking around for the elevator, but Amanda grabbed his arm.

'Okay, hold it right there' she said firmly 'You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on'.  She crossed her arms determinedly 'You drag me all the way out here in the middle of the night with no explanation, when we should both be in our beds.  And now you're telling me we have to go to the third floor, because someone called Nate Johnson says so'.  She paused for breath 'Mark what's going on?'

Mark sighed 'Nate Johnson is an archaeology grad student at UCLM' he explained.  'He told me that David Summers did some research into rituals, only he couldn't remember what type'.

'And we're here because?' she prompted

'Nate told me that a copy of David's research may be stored here at the library'.  He sighed 'It's a long shot but …'

'But you think the killer is into rituals and maybe David's research will give us a clue?' Amanda finished.

Mark shrugged and smiled 'I'll understand if you wanna go home'

Amanda grinned at him 'Are you kidding, lets go!'  Pushing past him she strode purposefully to the elevators and pushed the button.  Shaking his head with a smile, Mark followed.

***

Thirty minutes later and Tanis was ready to admit defeat.  Sitting in the hard backed chair at Natasha's desk, she closed the book she'd been scanning, doused her flashlight and wearily dropped her head into her hands.  'I read any more about the pharaohs and the ancient civilization and I swear I'm gonna be walking like an Egyptian' she groaned.

Steve had ditched the books from the armchair and was now slumped in it.  He held his flashlight in one hand, his long legs were stretched out in front of him, and a large, hard backed copy was spread across his knees.  He grinned sympathetically 'Not exactly my choice in bedtime reading either.'

'Anything?' she inquired hopefully.

'Nope' he sighed ruefully 'Just David Summer's Masters Thesis'.  He yawned widely 'Something about ancient Egyptian revenge rituals or something' he said rolling his eyes. 'It's gripping stuff' he added dryly 'but to be honest I'm finding it hard to get beyond page one'.  

Tossing the thesis aside, he looked at her tiredly 'You found anything; cause I'm ready to call it a night'.

'Nothing' she replied, stretching languorously 'and you know what; I think I hear my bed calling me'.

Steve grinned 'I hear ya, but how about I treat you to a slice of pizza on the way home?  I think I owe you that much.'

She smiled 'You sure do, but d'you mind if I take a rain check?' She yawned 'It's a little late for pizza'.

'Hey!' Steve interjected with a look of mock hurt 'It's never too late for pizza'.

Before she could answer they were both startled by a sudden noise outside.

'Natasha?' Tanis whispered, suddenly alert.

'Or the Porter doing his rounds' Steve said in a hushed undertone 'You stay here and keep quiet and I'll go check it out.'

'No way' she replied 'You can't go out there without backup'.

'Tanis' he replied reasonably 'I'm just gonna check it out.  If I see anything suspicious I'll come straight back, Okay?'

She hesitated, then 'Okay' she nodded tersely 'You've got ten minutes and then I'm coming after you.'  She didn't like it, but on this case at least, he was the boss.

***

'Here it is!' Mark beamed triumphantly, tugging at the thick volume wedged tightly on the shelf before him.

'Shush!' Amanda silenced him 'Keep your voice down, you're disturbing the other customers'

'Opps!' Mark pressed a finger to his lips 'Sorry' he mouthed at the other inhabitants of floor 3.  

None of them paid him any attention.  The homeless guy, who'd come in to enjoy the warmth, continued to doze at the table across from Mark and Amanda.  No doubt he would sleep peacefully until roused by the night porter and returned to the city streets.  The three young people seated to their left continued their low voiced discussion – grad students, probably working on a term paper, whilst simultaneously attempting to put the world to rights.  To their right, a man in his thirties poured studiously over the law chronicles, rubbing his eyes tiredly, desperate to find a loop-hole that would win him his latest case.  

Hefting the hard backed thesis to a nearby table, Mark sat down and switched on the desk lamp.  The lamp glowed softly orange, simultaneously illuminating his face and the book before him.  He took off his glasses and polished them on his sweater before replacing them.  Opening the thesis, he shrugged off his jacket and settled himself more comfortably – it could be a long night.

Placing her handbag on the floor at his feet, Amanda retrieved her purse. 'Mark, I'm gonna go get us some coffee' she said 'there's a machine right down the hall and I think we're gonna need it'.

Mark nodded absently, his mind already focused on the text before him.  She sighed – it was gonna be a long night.  Yawning, she walked quietly to the main door of floor 3, and passing through it, turned left and crossed to the drinks dispenser she'd noticed earlier.  No doubt the coffee would be grim, but at least it would afford them the vital caffeine that might allow them to stay awake long enough to read the thesis.  She yawned again, although both she and Mark were used to perusing medical research, she knew that an archaeology thesis would not be light reading.  Academic texts were inevitably interspersed with jargon, almost another language designed to exclude the uninitiated.  It was possible they wouldn't be able to make head nor tail of it.

She looked at the machine in front of her and fished some loose change from her purse.  Black coffee oughta do the trick she thought, keying in the appropriate code.  When the machine failed to respond, she gave it a swift kick and was rewarded with a thin stream of dark liquid that slowly filled the styro-foam cup. 'Works every time' she thought with a grin.  'One down and one to go'.

She was slower on her way back.  Juggling two steaming cups and her purse; the door to floor three proved somewhat challenging.  With her purse jammed under her arm and one cup in her hand, she was forced to grip the other with her teeth in order to have a hand free to open the door.

Successfully reaching the desk where Mark sat, still absorbed in the book, she placed a coffee before him 'You have no idea what I had to go through to get that' she joked.

'Mark?' she prompted upon receiving no response 'Mark, did you hear me? I said ...'

He looked up and she gasped 'What is it?' she asked in alarm.

***

Silently Steve slipped out of the room and edged cautiously along the corridor, gun at the ready.  He didn't dare switch on his flashlight, but the moon shone in through the glass windows, illuminating everything with an eerie glow.  He shivered, he didn't scare easily and unlike Jesse his imagination rarely ran away with him, but Tanis was right it was pretty creepy.  

He took a deep breath 'Come on Sloan' he urged himself 'Get a grip'.  The gun in his hand felt good, its weight reassuring him that should he need to, he could defend himself.  So far there was nothing, but that didn't mean there wasn't someone skulking in the shadows – Natasha, the porter or someone else entirely.

Reaching the second floor elevator, he jumped out of his skin before recognising the mummy that had startled Tanis earlier.  He shook his head smiling ruefully.  Turning away he grinned, thinking how lucky it was that she hadn't witnessed his little indiscretion – he never would have lived it down, especially after the hard time he'd given her earlier.  He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't see the mummy move until it was far too late.  He cried out as his head exploded with pain and then there was nothing but darkness.


	29. Chapter 31

'Ira look out!' Marge Hansen shouted, as a black BMW cut in front of them, almost running their station wagon off the road.

'Damn fool!' Ira shouted as the errant driver sped off into the night 'Some people shouldn't be allowed a licence!' he bellowed.

'Calm down now honey' Marge soothed 'You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure'.

'Forget my blood pressure' Ira growled irritably, shaking off his wife's restraining hand. 'Did you get his plate Marge?'

As he raced through the late night LA traffic, jumping any red light that sought to slow him down, Mark Sloan was unaware that he was the topic of conversation in the car behind.  Had he known, he would have been deeply apologetic, but he wouldn't have slowed down any.  Right now, his thoughts were as erratic as his driving and just as frantic.  Swerving to pass a haulage truck that had veered into the fast lane, he wiped feverishly at the sweat that dripped from his brow.  Oblivious to the angry horns that blared around him, he had only one thought in his mind.

He scrabbled blindly for his cell phone.

'C'mon, C'mom' he chanted, mantra like, pleading with the phone for a response.  But there was nothing at the other end, save an insistent message politely informing him that the receiver's phone was currently switched off.  It had been the same for the last fifteen minutes.

'C'mon Steve, please' he begged 'Switch on the phone'.

As to why his son's cell was so uncharacteristically dead, he dared not hazard.  

***

At the central library, her cell phone jammed to her ear, Amanda paced the foyer impatiently.

'C'mon Chief, pick up' she urged.

Ordinarily she would never call Chief Masters on his private line, but then this was no ordinary situation.  Mark had told her to call, and if there was one thing she'd learnt over the years, it was to trust the instincts of Mark Sloan.  Worriedly, she bit her lip, as the phone rang out helplessly in her ear.  If the damn Chief didn't pick up soon, she'd go right to his front door and request his help in person 

- only she didn't have her car!

Uncharacteristically, she swore, but there was no one around to hear.  For once in her life she felt helpless and very alone.  They were in trouble and at the moment help wasn't coming.  Steve was in danger and whilst Mark had gone to help him, she could not help but worry for them both.  Mark was brilliant, but he was no action man.  Even in his youth he had shied away from physical pursuits, preferring the intellectual challenges.  She knew it was a source of wonder to Mark that he had produced a son so athletically inclined

 She understood why Mark had wanted her to stay – he would never willingly endanger her life.  But she couldn't let him face this alone.  She couldn't just stand here all night waiting for the Chief to answer his phone and praying it wouldn't be too late.  She had to get over to UCLM and help Mark; she could keep ringing the Chief on the way.  But how?   She was stranded.

'Think!' she told herself sternly, still pacing.  And then it came to her.  Abruptly she cut off the phone and immediately redialled.  He answered on the third ring, his jovial greeting so starkly at odds with her current state of mind.  In the background she could hear the clinking of glasses, the buzz of numerous muted conversations, the faint melodic tinkling of a piano.

'Jesse' she gasped, weak with relief 'We need you'.

***

Entering the archaeology department at a run, Mark prayed that he wasn't too late.  If he'd only figured it out earlier, he could have warned Steve before he left the beach house.  But it wasn't until he'd opened the thesis, seen it before him in black and white.  By now it could be too late. 

So far the building seemed quiet, the silence broken only by his laboured breathing and the hammering of his heart.  In his flustered state he'd lost his bearings.

 'Where is it?  Where is it?' he thought frantically.  Looking round wildly, he was flooded with relief, as he finally caught sight of the sign 'Egyptology - Level 2'.  With no patience for the elevator he set off up the stairs, wishing he were 30 years younger and at least ten minutes faster.

Painfully opening his eyes, Steve groaned.  The floor beneath him was cold and unrelenting and the room, or what he could see of it, was tilting in an alarming fashion.  Sickened, he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on his breathing to regain a sense of control.  Tentatively he reached up, fingers gingerly exploring his right temple.  He winced in pain, and his hand when he retracted it, was sticky with congealing blood.  He had no idea how badly he was hurt, or how long he'd been out, but knew it was imperative that he get up and fast.  If only he could get his body to co-operate.  The finely honed muscles had turned to jelly; the hours spent at the gym seemed merely a figment of his imagination. 

'Steve!' Mark shouted in alarm as he emerged from the stairwell onto the second floor landing.  His heart leapt, as he saw his son lying prone on the floor.  As he got closer he could see that Steve was conscious and stirring, but bleeding profusely from a wound to the head.  The grogginess of his movements and his obvious disorientation suggested a probable concussion.  It was bad, but it could have been worse – much worse.  Kneeling down beside his son, Mark reached out gentle restraining hands to halt Steve's already laboured progress. 

'Don't try to move son' he soothed 'Just lie still, you're gonna be alright'.

'No' Steve moaned.  Shaking his head, trying to say more, he weakly pushed his father's hands away, and resumed his feeble attempt to get up off the floor.

Mark winced, his son was obviously distressed and in pain.  'Please Steve, just lie still' he coaxed 'the ambulance will be here any minute'.  With more composure than he actually felt, he reached for his cell phone and began to dial.  Before he could complete the call, he felt an intense pressure as Steve's hand gripped his arm like a vice.

'Tanis' Steve croaked weakly.

Their eyes met.  As Mark registered the urgent intensity in his son's gaze, he was filled with a sudden and horrified understanding.  This time when Steve attempted to get to his feet, Mark helped him.  

Up right, but swaying dizzily, Steve faintly blinked the blood from his eyes.  Leaning heavily on his father for support he drew his gun.  With Mark shouldering the strain, the two men staggered forward, their progress painfully slow.

***

In Natasha's office, Tanis picked up the Masters thesis from the floor where Steve had tossed it aside.  Flicking idly through the first couple of pages she rolled her eyes - Steve was right, this sure was heavy going.  About to toss it, she froze suddenly as one word caught her eye.  A chill ran down her spine and involuntarily she shivered 'Oh my God' she said aloud, her voice echoing eerily in the empty building.  She had to show this to Steve and fast.  Scrabbling around for her bag, she froze again – he should have been back by now.

 She looked at her watch – 11.30pm, at least 10 maybe 15 minutes since he'd gone to check out that noise.  He'd promised to come straight back, she thought uneasily.  Either he'd found something very interesting or, more worryingly, something had found him. 

Looking down at the desk, she quickly began to collect up the all-important evidence, clumsy in her haste to reach him.  

Half way across the room she dropped her bag 'God damn it!' she cursed turning to retrieve it.  As she turned, a powerful arm snaked around her neck.  She tried to scream, but it died in her throat as the pressure cut off her air.  Choking she struggled frantically, but to no avail.  With each subsequent breath she was weakening, losing her battle to stay alive.  Black spots danced in the periphery of her vision, teasing and tormenting.  With one final surge she kicked and clawed, but her finger nails raking down her attacker's face met not human flesh but the cool, hard smoothness of a mask.

Tears of frustration, anger and finally fear streamed down her cheeks, as she realised the futility of her situation.  Help wasn't coming.  Her life was gonna be snuffed out tonight in this dingy office and tomorrow she'd be another statistic, just one more cop killed in the line of duty.

'Freeze police!'

The voice sounded a million miles away, but dimly Tanis could see Steve, blood pouring down his face, swaying unsteadily, but gun drawn.  As the pressure eased slightly at her throat, she realised the impossibility of their situation.  Her attacker could squeeze out her life in the time it took for Steve to pull the trigger – stalemate.  

Her eyes met Steve's; it was obvious he knew it too, but what of the man or woman whose arm encircled her neck?  Did her masked assailant have thoughts of life and death?  Would they kill her and sacrifice themselves to a cop's bullet, some sort of martyr to a sick cause?  

They had covered situations like this in training, sure, but right here, right now who knew which option to take?  She had to make a decision, simple as that.  With one final look at Steve, willing him to understand, she made her decision.  Taking a deep breath she stopped struggling.  

Blinking feverishly, Steve fought to hold the gun steady.  The image of Tanis and the mummy wavered before his eyes.  His head throbbed and for a moment he thought he was gonna pass out.  Eyes closed, he swallowed back the nausea that threatened.  It was hot, too hot and yet the sweat that ran in waves down his face and the back of his neck was cold.  He felt strangely adrift, almost outside himself and yet the part of his mind that was still functioning clearly, knew that this was no dream.  Opening his eyes, he blinked again, as impossibly, Tanis and the mummy had increased in number before him.  His brain struggled to make sense of the double image that swayed crazily across his vision. 

He moved the gun wildly from one image to the other and back. What to shoot?  Which one was real?  

A tear of frustration rolled down his cheek and then he fired.

TO BE CONTINUED …….


	30. Chapter 32

Strangely, the boom of his gun shocked her perhaps more than the white-hot pain that seared her skin.  She gasped in surprise, and heard a woman's voice cry out.  It took a few seconds to register that the voice was her own.  And then she was falling forwards, feeling strangely weightless, mind and body adrift, her own momentum intensified, by a brutal shove from behind.  She felt light, giddy, strangely euphoric.  Had she been capable of rational thought, she would have known these symptoms were a combination of rapid blood loss and the corresponding surge of adrenalin that rushed her system - her body's natural response to the bullet's assault. 

Dimly, she could hear the rhythmical pounding of … what?  Foot steps?  Was that the fleeing of the killer, or was it the sound of her own blood that was pounding in her ears?  But now it was getting harder and harder to think at all.  She knew something was wrong, very wrong, but she was sleepy, hazy – was this a dream?

All at once she hit something solid – the floor?  But by now she was beyond caring, her mind and body shutting down.

She heard a roaring in her ears, saw the brief flash of a light and then there was nothing.

***

In the confusion as Tanis was thrown forcibly into his arms, Steve lost his gun.  In seemingly slow motion, he could see the mummy making its escape, fleeing into the half-light and disappearing down the labyrinth of corridors that stretched far beyond his field of vision.  He wanted to follow, but then he was falling backwards, in his current condition too weak to support the added weight of her inert body.  He reached out with one hand, desperate to stay upright, but his head was spinning and his muscles had turned to jello.  As he hit the floor, with Tanis sprawled on top of him, he thought he heard his father's voice, and from some way off, the blaring of sirens and the flashing of lights.  He could taste blood in his mouth, could feel it running in rivers down his face.  Tanis was heavy across his upper body, constricting his chest and he was dimly aware of the laboured sound of his own breathing.  His vision was blurring, the sirens becoming muffled.

'Dad?' he tried to cry, but his throat wouldn't work, and then there was nothing but darkness.

***

As he knelt beside his son, repeatedly calling his name, Mark was vaguely aware of a hand on his arm, a voice soothing – telling him everything was gonna be okay.  The corridor, which had been so quiet, so empty; was now filled with noise and confusion.  Sirens pierced the air, tearing painfully at his ears and harsh light burned his eyes, eyes that had become accustomed to the semi-gloom.  Men dressed in black, carrying assault rifles flooded the building, passing him without a second glance, so intent were they upon catching their prey.  In the precision and co-ordination of their attack they reminded him of a swarm of black ants, marching onwards, moving as one.

'Mark, please'

The voice which had been gentle was becoming more insistent, the hand on his arm now attempting to pull him away.  Angrily he shrugged it off, turning back to Steve and Tanis.  Amidst the chaos and confusion they remained deathly still.  Tanis' face was hidden, sprawled as she was across his son, but Mark could see the blood pooling, staining the cream coloured floorboards a crimson blush.  Steve's face was ashen, his eyes shut.  The blood from his head wound was sticky and congealed.  Mark looked desperately for even the smallest rise and fall of his son's chest.  

And still the voice persisted.  

This time he turned.

'You have to let me in Mark' Jesse said gently, but firmly 'I need to look at Steve and Tanis'.

'Jesse?' Mark said in confusion.

'That's right Mark, I'm here and I'm gonna take good care of them'.

Capable hands helped Mark to his feet, and a blanket was placed around his shoulders.

'Let Jesse take care of them Mark' Amanda said gently, leading him off to the side 'You know he'll do the very best he can'.  

Mark nodded, and Jesse moved forward, assessing his patients quickly.  As he directed the paramedics, efficiently supervising the transportation of Steve and Tanis into the waiting ambulance, Mark watched in a daze, his mind still reeling from the events that had unfolded before him.  

At Jesse's signal, Amanda, her arm around Mark, guided him forward.

'Doctor Sloan' Chief Masters called, dwarfing them as he stepped forward, blocking their path 'I need to ask you a few questions'.

'Not now Chief' Amanda said firmly 'This man is in deep shock and in no shape to deal with a police interrogation'.

'I appreciate your concern Doctor Bentley, but at present Doctor Sloan here is the only one who can tell us just …'

'What the hell is going on?' a woman's voice interrupted.

All three turned in surprise and Amanda gaped at the vision before them.  The woman was stunning.  Her shiny black hair flowed in glorious waves down her back, her almond shaped eyes, accentuated by the skilful application of black kohl liner, were catlike in their brilliance.  Her lips were a pouting crimson red.  Her voluptuous figure was barely contained in low-cut skin tight black top and matching trousers.  In one hand she clutched a packet of cigarettes.

'Doctor Summers' the Chief said

'Natasha?' Mark murmured, his eyes wide with shock.

'And can you tell me exactly what you're doing here Doctor Summers?' Masters said sternly.

'I had a meeting' she replied 'but I was running a little late and then I realised I'd run out of cigarettes'.  She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 'I'm afraid I can't do anything without my cigarettes.  I tried to call, but I couldn't get a reply'.

'I need you to answer a few questions' Masters said, taking hold of her arm.  He turned to Mark, and noting Amanda's resolute expression, let out a breath 'Okay, you're free to go for now Doctor, but I will be speaking to you in the morning'.

As he was helped into the ambulance transporting Steve and Tanis to Community General, Mark caught sight of the porter, John Anderson, face white and strained.  Looking at Steve and Tanis and feeling sick with fear, Mark prayed that there wouldn't be another body to report in the morning.

**Author's note: A big thanks once again for the reviews.  Sorry this chapter is a little short, but I didn't want you to wait too long for the latest instalment.**


	31. Chapter 33

_He turned frantically from one image to the other – which one was real? _

_The gun was shaking in his hand, the pounding in his skull seemed to reverberate forever and still the impossible choice.  Which one to shoot, which one to save?  Her life was in the balance and he was the only one who could help.  But could he? He closed his eyes fighting the dizziness that came in waves, but when he opened them again there were still two images.  It was no good.  He had to do something and he had to do it now._

_            A tear of frustration rolled down his cheek and then he fired. _

_            Before his eyes, her body jerked and spasmed.  She spun round, as the force of his bullet brutally punctured her skin.  He gasped in horror at the blood – there was so much blood, too much.  And then she was falling towards him, her life draining away in the dripping of her blood.  And then he was falling too, and although he reached out a hand, desperately feeling for a hold, he couldn't stop.  _

_There were lights and sirens, voices shouting.  His voice shouting?  His head was splitting.  The sirens faded, the voices were muffled, becoming indistinct.  But the lights, the lights were getting brighter.  He couldn't understand why._

He opened his eyes and groaned, as all at once his senses were assaulted.  His vision was hazy.  He blinked, tentatively at first and then more rapidly.  As his vision cleared, he took in the familiar white walls, the machinery that monitored his heart rate.  Through the window he could see nurses and orderlies going about their business.  He turned his head and everything shifted, alarmingly.  Nausea came quickly in a rippling wave.  He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, breathing deeply.

 'Glad to see you finally decided to join us!' she said.  Her voice was weak, tired, but she was smiling he could tell.  Even with his eyes shut, he could tell she was smiling. 

                He opened his eyes again - slowly, taking care this time not to move his head.  She was seated across from him, but not in the chair reserved for visitors.  A wheel chair had been moved beside his bed – his father or Jesse no doubt.  From the crisp white sling that encompassed her left arm, it was obvious that she hadn't been able to manoeuvre the chair herself.  

'You know sleeping beauty, we've all been waiting for you to wake up' she said teasingly. 'I heard your Father has been here all night. Travis practically had to drag him out to take a shower, get a change of clothes'.  She smiled again 'Hell, I thought you were gonna sleep all day'.

From his hospital bed Steve smiled weakly 'I heard the Chief was gonna treat me to dinner' he responded wryly 'Now that's gotta be worth waking up for'.

'Don't get too excited Sloan' she returned archly 'You know as well as I do that the Chief never eats'.

Steve sighed 'We can but hope!'

'You said it!' she replied

He raised an eyebrow indicating her sling.

'Just a flesh wound' she said 'hurts like hell, but no serious damage'.  

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding

She cocked an eyebrow in return 'I still can't believe you shot me!' she said dryly.

'But that's what you told me to do' he protested.  'Besides, it's standard police procedure - shoot the hostage'.

She rolled her eyes 'I meant for you to shoot him!  Jeeze a little bump on the head and you turn into Bruce Willis in Die Hard!' she teased.

He shrugged and smiled.  She smiled back.

There was a pause.  

They looked at each other, both suddenly awkward, neither knowing what to say next.  

'Steve I ..' she began, just as he spoke her name.  Abruptly they both stopped.  He gestured for her to go first, but she shook her head 'No you go' she said.

Self-conscious, he cleared his throat, started to sit up.  But the room refused to co-operate, pitching away from him, as if he were on a ship in a rolling sea.  Closing his eyes, he carefully held his head in an attempt to steady it.

Immediately Tanis moved forward, leaving the wheel chair behind 'You okay?' she asked her concern all too apparent.

Nauseous, he swallowed hard before admitting 'A little woozy'.

Placing a supportive hand on his arm, she helped him lay back down. 

'Well you can forget moving for a while' she told him firmly, 'For the time being you're definitely staying horizontal'.  She paused then continued in a small voice 'But I'm real glad you made it to your feet last night'.  She shuddered 'If you hadn't got there when you did …'

'Forget it Archer' Steve interrupted gruffly 'I got there'.  

He didn't wanna think about last night.  She could have been killed and they both knew it – if not by the attacker, then by Steve himself.  A couple of inches the other way, she wouldn't have lived to tell the tale and he'd have killed his own partner in cold blood.  As it was, they were both sporting the scars of last night, but they were alive.

He shivered; trying to switch off the images that flooded unbidden to his mind.  He'd felt so helpless, when staggering round the corner, supported by his father, he'd seen her fighting for her life.  Last night he could have lost her for good.  If he'd been unconscious a couple of minutes longer, if his father hadn't shown up when he did, if his aim had been slightly off – there were far too many 'ifs' in the equation.

'Steve, I wanted to ….' she began

'Ssshh' he took hold of her hand, stopping the flow of words.  

They looked at each other in silence.  

For no reason she could think of, her heart was hammering.  Suddenly she was very aware of him, the touch of his hand upon hers.  Feeling slightly dizzy herself, she sat down on the edge of his bed, breathing hard.  Jumping up like that sure hadn't been a great idea – just a flesh wound maybe, but she obviously wasn't back to her normal self just yet. 

As she perched tentatively on the edge of his bed, Steve could feel her trembling and could smell the bitter-sweet scent of her perfume.  All at once he was trembling himself, although he had no idea why.  

The silence was suddenly deafening, the air thick with tension.

As she shivered, the sleeve of her blouse brushed his bare arm in a tantalising caress. Their eyes met; she held his gaze.  Still neither of them spoke.   Slowly she reached forward, gently pushing a strand of hair from his forehead.  He found he was holding his breath.  Their lips were so close.  

They moved closer …..

The door when it burst open startled them both.

'Steve, you're awake!'  Mark beamed as he entered the room.

The moment was gone.  Tanis snatched her hand away and quickly stood up, smoothing her hair and unnecessarily straightening her clothes. 

'You certainly took your time' Jesse added appearing from behind Mark and grabbing the chart at the end of the bed. 'You know Steve' he continued with a grin, flopping down in the spot so recently vacated by Tanis 'You're lucky he hit you on the head – anywhere else and he could have done you some real damage!'

Steve smiled faintly, but didn't reply; right now he was in no state to handle Jesse's up beat humour.  His senses were still reeling from the intensity of the briefly shared moment with Tanis.  The moment had taken him completely by surprise and his feelings were all over the place.  What with his current physical condition, combined with the delayed shock engendered from the events of the night before, his emotions were dangerously close to the surface.  He closed his eyes and willed himself to regain control.

Mark looked at him with concern.  For someone with a concussion, being subdued was to be expected, but he knew his son and there was something else going on here.  He'd seen something in Steve's expression, as he'd come through the door. For once his face had been completely open and Mark had caught a rare flicker of emotion.  He couldn't place it - vulnerability, affection, desire?  He paused in surprise – had it been love?  But it had been only an instant, and now the habitual, impassive mask had returned – Steve's emotions were buried once more.

Turning to Tanis, Mark could see that she too looked close to the edge.  Had he and Jesse interrupted something?  His mind working quickly he turned to Jesse, desperate to give Steve and Tanis some time alone, but not wanting to embarrass them.

'You know, Steve's looking pretty tired Jess' Mark said pointedly, hoping the young doctor wouldn't argue 'I don't think he's ready for quite so many visitors just yet'.  

He turned to his son 'How's about Jesse and I go grab a coffee and we can come back a little later when you've had a chance to get some rest?'

Before Steve could reply Tanis interrupted 

'It's okay Mark, I was just leaving'.  

She had to get out of there, get her head together and work out exactly what had just happened.  At the moment her senses were still reeling, she felt like a school girl in the throes of a first crush.

Gathering up her coat and bag she headed for the door, completely by-passing the wheel chair in her haste to get away.

 'I could really use some rest myself' she said hurriedly 'I didn't get much sleep last night'.  She glanced briefly in Steve's direction; but his eyes were shut.  It was painfully obvious that he couldn't face her, wanted to forget what had almost happened between them.  She bit her lip; clearly she'd just made a complete fool of herself.  

'Get some sleep Sloan' she instructed brusquely, desperate to cover her real feelings 'You look like hell'.

Mark turned 'Tanis, you know we really can't let you just walk out of here'.  He gestured meaningfully at the wheel chair 'hospital policy you know that'.

She was about to protest, but he wasn't having any of it.  Still flustered she sat down in the chair, her eyes resolutely fixed on the door, she steeled herself not to glance in Steve's direction.

'Jesse, wheel Tanis out will you' Mark said 'and make sure she has a ride home'.  

He looked at Tanis, his eyes affectionate, but his tone firm 'That bullet didn't do any major damage, but you lost a great deal of blood.  You really shouldn't be doing anything physical just yet.  Promise me that when you get home you'll go straight to bed'.

She sighed 'I promise'.

'Okay ma'am' Jesse tipped an imaginary hat in his best chauffeur impression as he took the handles of the chair 'Let's get you home.'

Mark smiled, but it was a brief smile.  Something was going on, he was sure of it, and whatever it was neither Steve nor Tanis seemed very happy.  He rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully and stifled a yawn.  Tanis wasn't the only one not to get much sleep last night.  Once they'd arrived at Community General everything had been a blur.  Tanis had been whisked off to the O.R. where thankfully Jesse had discovered that the bullet had missed the major artery.  In fact the bullet hadn't even lodged in her arm, simply nicked her on its way past.  Despite the large amounts of blood, it really was only a flesh wound.  

He sighed; thank god Steve's aim had been good.  Another couple of inches and it would have been a completely different story.  As for Steve himself, he had briefly regained consciousness in the ambulance, but had been more out of it than in.  A cat scan had diagnosed a moderately severe concussion.  Again they'd been lucky.  There was no permanent damage, and apart from the gash on his temple that required stitching, all Steve really needed was bed rest.  Mark smiled ruefully, even though he knew Steve was fine, he'd still kept a vigil at his bedside, moving only when Jesse forced him to take a shower and change his clothes, and allowing Tanis to spend some time alone with her partner.

Last night had been terrible.  He had accepted a long time ago that Steve's chosen career often put him in danger, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.  Mark shuddered.  There was something surreal about the whole thing.  That the killer had been wearing the Egyptian ceremonial burial dress, complete with blue and gold mask, just added to the eerie atmosphere that had permeated this case from day one.

Looking through the thesis last night, he had been sure that Natasha Summers was the killer.  He let out a breath, remembering the shock, the feeling of dread that had settled cold and unnatural inside him when he'd read the words on the pages before him.  The killer was re-enacting the Ancient Egyptian revenge ritual from David Summers' thesis, following it word for word.  The implements, the victims it was a complete match.  

According to the ritual, the first and second victims had to be the elders of the tribe, the first to be murdered with a blow pipe filled with poison, and the second to be strangled with a sacred rope.  Peterson and Summers were the project leaders, the modern day 'elders of the tribe'.  The third victim had to be the tribe's witch doctor, purged with a blade – Schwenck, the group's specialist in the occult.  And the fourth, the bravest warrior, the tribe's protector, clubbed to death.  Mark shuddered again – Steve.

Nate Johnson had told him that Natasha and Summers had gotten together at Yale, when Summers was writing his Masters thesis.  She had to know the ritual.  Nate had also said that she wasn't just studying archaeology, she was living it.  That had been the thought that had eluded him at the beach house.  The killer believed in the rituals, Natasha believed in the ritual.  And yet she had turned up last night in her street clothes, not a hair out of place. 

 He sighed – did she really have time to ditch the mummy suit?  What did she do with it?  Did she really have the nerve to front it out, like that?  Wouldn't the killer have run as far away as possible?  All night as he kept a fatherly watch over Steve, these questiones had gone round and round in his head and yet he was still no closer to the answers.

Wearily he pulled over the visitor's chair and sat down by the side of the bed, glancing at Steve as he did so.  His eyes were still shut, but he didn't seem to be sleeping.  What had gone on just before he and Jesse arrived? Why did Steve and Tanis seem so on edge?  He sighed, more questions to which he didn't have the answers!

'Are you okay, son?' he asked tenderly.

Steve opened his eyes 'I'll be fine Dad – it's just a bump on the head, that's all'.

Mark paused awkwardly 'Son, I didn't just mean the concussion'.

Turning onto his side, effectively shielding his face from his father's worried gaze, Steve took a breath before replying 

'I'm fine Dad, I just need some sleep is all'.

Sitting back, Mark sighed – Steve obviously wasn't ready to talk, but when he was, then he would be ready to listen.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Steve was surprised at how miserable he felt.  It was obvious Tanis regretted their moment of closeness.  His partner couldn't get out of the hospital quick enough.  For some reason, that thought was more painful than the persistent pounding in his head.

**Author's note: Thank you very much for all the encouragement, I'm really enjoying writing this and I'm glad you're enjoying reading it.  For those of you who are getting impatient to know who the murderer is, the net is closing in I promise**


	32. Chapter 34

'I've got doughnuts!' Jesse Travis exclaimed with relish, dropping down onto the couch at the beach house.  Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he opened the brown bag he carried, and proudly displayed his spoils.

'Shussh!' Amanda cautioned sternly, gesturing at him to lower the volume and simultaneously giving his feet a smack, indicating the need for the swift removal of them from the table. 

'You'll wake Steve' she continued, by way of explanation, to assuage his look of confusion.

'Steve's here?' Jesse said in surprise through a mouthful of doughnut, as he put his feet back on the floor 'It's been what two days?  I was sure he'd be back at his desk by now.' Looking at Amanda he rolled his eyes dramatically 'We usually have to restrain him to get him to take a break'.

'I know' she replied, busy dusting off the scuff marks Jesse's sneakers had left 'That's exactly what I said'.  She sighed 'I guess the attack shook him up more than we thought'.

'Steve?' Jesse's tone made it clear he didn't consider that a likely possibility 'The guy is made of rock – remember what he was like after he got shot?'

'I know' Amanda agreed 'But Jesse, nobody can be strong all the time'.  She took a breath before continuing 'And sometimes it's not just physical pain you have to get through'. She looked at Jesse seriously 'You know it must have been pretty difficult for Steve having to shoot Tanis like that'.

'I guess' Jesse had lost his sunny expression and was starting to look perturbed 'You know I've just never thought of Steve being vulnerable' he said worriedly 'Do you think he's gonna be okay'.

Amanda smiled reassuringly 'Oh honey he's gonna be just fine.' Sitting down next to him on the couch she squeezed Jesse's hand 'and we're gonna be right here to make sure he is.'  She paused before crossing her arms and fixing him with a stern look 'Now hand over those doughnuts Travis!'  

Jesse grinned and reaching for another doughnut for himself first, he tossed her the bag.  They both turned at the sound of footsteps.

'Mark' Jesse beamed as the older doctor ascended the stairs from the apartment below.

'Hey Jess' Mark smiled fondly 'I thought I heard your voice.'

'See' Amanda scolded, nudging him with her elbow 'I told you, you were too loud.'

Jesse pulled a face at her and bit into his second doughnut, as Mark chuckled.

'How's Steve?' Amanda asked gently.

'Would you believe he's sleeping' Mark replied, running a hand through his snow white hair.  He sighed 'You know,' he said, a hint of irony in his voice 'usually I'd be begging him to get some rest, but now that he's doing it of his own accord I'm worrying!' 

He smiled resignedly at them; shrugging his shoulders 'I guess Steve can't win with me can he!'

Amanda looked at him sympathetically.  Placing a hand on Mark's arm she smiled reassuringly 'You know he's gonna be fine'.

'Oh I know he is honey' Mark sighed 'in fact I'm sure it's nothing physical, it's just he's acting so out of character'.  He paused, letting out a breath 'You know I think it's something to do with Tanis.' 

 Amanda shot Jesse a triumphant look, as Mark continued 'I could be wrong, but I'm sure there was something going on between those two at the hospital.'

'Steve and Tanis?' Jesse said with a grin 'Well, well'.  He took another bite of his doughnut, spraying crumbs everywhere as he contiued 'He certainly kept that one quiet!'

'Oh I don't think they're together' Mark replied 'at least not yet'.  He scratched his head 'I can't put my finger on it, but I'm sure that Tanis has something to do with Steve's behaviour'.  He looked at Jesse and Amanda 'You know she called here last night, but Steve said he didn't feel up to talking on the phone'.

Amanda raised her eyebrows 'You're right, that does sound suspicious'.  She looked at Mark 'Do you want me to talk to him?'

Mark sighed 'Well you can try, but I don't think it'll do any good.  You know what Steve's like'.

Amanda smiled, she knew only too well.  Whilst she'd lost count of the number of times Steve had listened to her problems, she'd never once had the chance to reciprocate.  Steve kept his feelings firmly to himself – even Mark wasn't privy to the deeper side of his emotions.

'So' Jesse interrupted, abruptly changing the subject 'With Steve laid up what's happening with the case?'

Mark looked at them sheepishly 'Well you know that's actually why I called you round here'.

Amanda rolled her eyes good-naturedly 'We should have guessed'.

Excited, Jesse bounded up from the couch 'So Mark' he asked eagerly 'what exactly are we gonna do?'

Mark smiled 'Well you know, there's a couple of questions I'd sure like to find out the answers to'.

'Like what?' Amanda asked.

'Well' he let out a breath 'I was so sure Natasha was the killer'

'And now you're not?' Amanda asked

'Oh I'm certainly not ruling her out' he replied 'but why would she want to ruin the project?  She's an ambitious career woman, the success of the project could have put her on the map for good – why jeopardise that?'

'Because of her husband's affair?' Amanda suggested

'May be' he allowed 'But if it was just about the affair why kill Peterson and Schwenk?  Why attack Steve and Tanis?'

'Well' Jesse said thinking hard 'May be she wanted to make it look like it was someone else, you know distract attention from the real killer?'

'Or may be she had to kill them to fulfil the ritual' Amanda added 'you said yourself that the method was important to the killer'.

Mark scratched his head 'I did say that didn't I?' He sighed 'You know this is a tough one'.

'If it was Natasha though' Jesse continued 'how did she manage to show up so quickly in her normal clothes?  You said she arrived just as Steve and Tanis were being stretchered into the ambulance'.

'That's right she did' Amanda confirmed.

'I've been thinking about that' Mark replied 'You know she could have had her street clothes on underneath the mummy costume but ..' he frowned 'what did she do with the costume after she'd taken it off?'

Amanda shrugged and Jesse pulled a face.  They looked at each other helplessly.  'So what now? Amanda asked 'Should we try and talk to Natasha?'

'Tanis is doing that this afternoon' Mark replied 'that's what she phoned Steve about last night.'  He frowned 'You know I think I'd like to go take a look at the crime scene'.

'But Mark' Amanda protested 'The police have already checked it out and there's nothing there'.

He smiled 'But you know it couldn't hurt to take another look'.

***

Downstairs in his apartment Steve heard the front door slam.  He knew Amanda and Jesse were with his father, he'd heard their murmured voices.  Lying quietly, he'd picked out first the word 'doughnuts' and then later on his own name.  Either they were making jokes about his culinary preferences, which was entirely possible, or more likely they'd been puzzling over his recent unusual behaviour.  

He sighed.  He knew he wasn't behaving at all normally.  For anyone else suffering from a concussion, two days in bed would be mandatory, but him?  Usually any bed rest he took had to be instigated by force – no wonder his father was worried.  And he knew that his father was worried.  

It was obvious that his father was hoping he'd talk; that's why he'd been down here again just now.  It was also the reason Steve himself had feigned sleep.  Sure he felt guilty about leaving his father out in the cold, but this just wasn't something he could talk about.  

As he lay back gazing up at the ceiling, he tried to work out just what his feelings were.  He wasn't a man much given to introspection.  By his own admission he was much more a doer than a thinker.  He sighed irritably.  What in the hell was wrong with him anyway?  He was a grown man and yet here he was acting like a dumb teenager with his first crush.  For once he felt vulnerable and out of control and he had no idea what to do about it.

His feelings for Tanis had taken him completely by surprise.  Sure they'd always gotten on well, but he'd never thought about her romantically - Tanis Archer was just one of the guys.  He smiled ruefully – amazing what a bump on the head could do, he was finally seeing things clearly for the first time.  Even now, re-running their almost kiss through his mind, he was shivering in anticipation.

He shook himself suddenly angry.  What the hell did it matter what he felt, she'd made it quite clear at the hospital she wasn't interested.  In the last few minutes he'd gone through confusion, delight and anger.  Embarrassment and despair were just around the corner, he knew - after all it'd been the same cycle of emotions for the past two days.  For a man who'd supposedly been sleeping, he certainly wasn't getting much rest.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he'd taken advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable.  He groaned, the woman had almost lost her life.  She'd been in shock, needing comfort and what had he done?  Jumped her that's what.  He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, he was no better than Wyatt and McBride and all the other apes at the precinct.  The more he thought about it, the more he knew he couldn't face her, at least not yet.

***

In the office Tanis sighed miserably.  She was due at least another day's sick leave, but sitting around at home had been driving her crazy.  Much better to get back to the case, get back to normal.  'Normal?' She thought wryly, that was a joke.  Things were way beyond normal - that much was obvious in that she was sitting here alone whilst her partner had taken to his bed to avoid her.  

What the hell had she been thinking jumping him like that?  The poor guy had a concussion for god sake!  'Good going Tanis' she chided herself 'Great move – take advantage of a guy with a head injury'.  

She sighed again; it was pretty obvious he was just as embarrassed about the whole thing as she was.  If only they could rewind the tape, erase the incident and go back to being partners.  'But you wouldn't really want that would you?' a little voice in her head pointed out accusingly.  Just thinking about his hand on hers, their eyes locked, lips close and she was tingling all over.

But it was obvious he didn't feel the same way.  What little vestige of hope she'd carried had been well and truly snuffed out when he'd refused to answer her call the previous evening.  Sure Mark had said all the right things, even given her a medical run down of Steve's condition, but Tanis was no fool.  She knew Steve Sloan and he didn't stay in bed.  Part of her was relieved that she didn't have to face him yet, but the more honest part was disappointed.

Pulling herself together she collected up the files on her desk and stacked them neatly.  Natasha Summers was due in about an hour and she needed to be prepared.  This time she wasn't taking any chances, the interrogation would take place at the station.  When she'd spoken to Mark about what she'd found in Natasha's office he'd already known.  She rolled her eyes – no surprise there, Mark Sloan was always two steps ahead of the game.  And boy it was lucky for her that he was.  If he hadn't come running to the Egyptology department that night, well, she shuddered, no point going down that road again.  

Funny, Steve had, had the thesis in his hands but he hadn't seen the connection.  Too tired, she guessed, but she knew he had to be kicking himself.  And suddenly she was back to thinking about Steve again.  Briefly she closed her eyes – this was hopeless.  Opening her eyes she took a long breath and resolutely opened the files again, forcing herself to focus.  

Of course, Tanis reasoned, finding the thesis in Natasha's office didn't exactly prove she did it, but it did prove she knew how.  So now they had means.  Given Summers' affair with Vicky Harris, which Natasha had discovered, they also had motive – surely proof couldn't be far behind?  She knew that Mark had initially been convinced that Natasha was the killer; that's why he'd made a beeline for her office.  But from talking to him on the phone last night, she was beginning to suspect that in the cold light of day he wasn't so sure.

She sighed.  Mark had questioned Natasha's motive for killing Peterson and Schwenk.  He had pointed out that whilst she may have wanted her husband dead, surely she wouldn't want the project to fold.  After all, as Mark had explained, her real objection to David's affair had been that it would tarnish her academic reputation.  This project would be a jewel in the crown for any academic – why would she jeopardise that?

Tanis could see his logic, but she wasn't ready to give up on Natasha just yet.  Firstly, she was their only real lead and secondly, if she was innocent, why exactly had Mrs Summers stood them up the other night?  Traffic?  Lame excuse!  Rubbing her eyes tiredly she wondered how she was gonna handle the interrogation.  Good cop, bad cop wasn't an option now she was on her own, but should she try to be friendly, relate to Natasha woman to woman or put the pressure on and go for the brusque, aggressive approach?  

She wondered what Steve would suggest.  But then thinking of Steve was putting her back on dangerous ground.  Annoyed with herself, she slammed the files shut and went to grab some lunch, determining as she did so to go for the aggressive approach with Natasha – maybe it'd help to vent her frustration.  And after all the woman was a killer, wasn't she?


	33. Chapter 35

**Author's note: Sorry it's been a while since I updated, but here's the next instalment!  I'm hoping to have some time over Christmas to work on the story, so fingers crossed!  In case you've forgotten where we're at, Steve and Tanis are out of the hospital following the Mummy's attack.  Both are recuperating, but they still haven't spoken after their 'near miss' romantic encounter.  Meanwhile, following the revelation that the killer is recreating the revenge ritual from David Summers' Masters thesis, Mark, Jesse and Amanda are hot on his (or her !) trail.  They are now back at the latest crime scene, the office of Natasha Summers.**

**Enjoy!**

As the three doctors entered the crowded archaeology department and turned into Natasha Summers' office, Mark picked out a familiar face, a civilian amidst the sea of police officers.

'Oh, hello there' he called cheerfully, with a wave of his hand 'It's  Mr. … erm Mr ?' Mark paused suddenly unsure.  For the life of him he couldn't remember the porter's name, although he knew they'd been introduced.

The man smiled 'Its Anderson, Doctor Sloan, but call me John, please.'

Mark smacked himself lightly on the head 'Anderson, of course it is, I'm sorry'.  Remembering his manners he turned to Jesse and Amanda who were hovering slightly behind 'John, I'd like to introduce my colleagues, Doctor Jesse Travis and Doctor Amanda Bentley' he said.  Both smiled awkwardly and John raised a hand in greeting 'They're helping me with the case' Mark explained.

John sighed ruefully 'I heard about your son Doctor Sloan, How's he doing?'

Mark smiled 'Oh well you know it's good of you to ask.  He had a nasty bump on the head, but he's doing a lot better now'.

'And the woman?' John prompted

'Tanis is fine too'.

'Nasty business' John said shaking his head.

Mark sighed 'I know, we got lucky'.  He paused looking around as if for the first time.  His eyes alighted on the books in John's hands 'So they've got you working already?' he said incredulously.

John shook his head ruefully 'Not exactly' he replied.  

'The might of the pharaohs' Jesse read laboriously, squinting to make out the print on the dust jackets from his rather distant vantage point. 'The Mysteries of Giza', 'The wrath of Ra' He grinned 'Nothing like a little light reading'.

'Why Mr. Anderson' Mark said in surprise 'I didn't know you had an interest in the ancient civilization'.

John blushed slightly 'I know a little, occupational hazard, but these aren't mine.'  He put the books down on a nearby shelf and shrugged 'I'm assisting the police in an inventory of Dr. Summers' office, for all the good it will do'.

'Oh' Mark sighed 'Well I guess every little helps'

John laughed, but his tone was harsh 'I don't see what they expect to find, it's pretty clear the killer has gotten away again.'

Amanda looked at him indignantly 'You know the advances in forensic technology are phenomenal' she said 'if the killer has left as much as a hair at the scene of the crime we'll track him down'.

He looked at her and shrugged 'We'll Ma'am you're the expert' he said bitterly 'What do I know, I'm just a porter after all'.

Amanda shifted awkwardly.  Looking for a distraction to break the sudden silence, Mark reached for the books John had placed on the shelf.  Inadvertently he caught one of Natasha's artefacts with his elbow 'Oh my' he gasped, unable to stop the inevitable disaster.  Reacting instantly, John jumped forwards, catching the object in his outstretched hand, a fraction of a second before it would have smashed on the floor.

'Nice save!' Jesse applauded

'I'm so sorry' Mark said 'That was terribly clumsy of me'.

John smiled and wiped his forehead, which was suddenly slick with sweat 'No harm done Doctor Sloan, but you need to be real careful around here, some of these artefacts are priceless, including this one'.  Lovingly he caressed the little statue of the god Ra 'This was recovered in a recent excavation of the Valley of the Kings' he explained 'it's the only one of its kind ever found'.

Mark let out a low whistle 'And I nearly smashed it into a thousand pieces!' He patted John on the shoulder 'Lucky for me you have such great reflexes!'

John grinned amiably 'I used to play a little ball, guess you never forget!'

Mark smiled back 'I guess not' he said.

***

Back at the beach house Steve had come to a decision.  The longer he left it, the harder it was gonna be to face her.  Best get it over with now and then maybe, just maybe, they could get back to normal.  He'd decided to act as if nothing had happened.  Sure it'd be awkward at first, but in the long run it'd be easier on them both.  He guessed she'd be relieved, save her the embarrassment of having to let him down gently.  He cringed, the humiliation almost sending him back under the covers.  But he was no coward.  Sure he'd been acting like one for the past couple of days, but now it was time to get on with his life.

It was gonna be hard covering up his feelings, but then he was no stranger to keeping things bottled up.  Besides if nothing else, he was going stir crazy lying in this bed.  He knew Tanis was interviewing Natasha Summers this afternoon, his father had told him.  An interrogation would be perfect – talking to the suspect would leave little or no time to talk to Tanis.  

Having made his decision he sat up abruptly, anxious to be on his way.  The spinning room reminded him he'd have to be more careful.  Taking a deep breath, he smiled wryly - may be the concussion wasn't such a feeble excuse after all.  He certainly wasn't back to full fitness; it'd be so easy to take another day or maybe two to recuperate.  

'Come on Sloan you're doing this' he told himself firmly.

Moving gingerly, he dressed and wrote a note for his father.  Looking longingly at the keys to his truck he thought better of it and dialled a cab.  Sitting down at the kitchen table he waited patiently for his ride, and all the while his insides performed somersaults at the thought of seeing Tanis again.

***

'Mark what exactly do you hope to find here?' Amanda asked.  Despite her earlier words to John Anderson, she was struggling to maintain the confidence of her convictions.  Looking around Natasha Summers' office she shrugged helplessly 'You know forensics have already been over this place with a fine tooth comb.'

Mark stroked his chin thoughtfully, as he paced the room, stopping every so often to more closely examine a photograph or artefact.  His mind was obviously elsewhere.

'Mark!' Jesse prompted from his position in Natasha's armchair 'Give us a clue, what are we looking for here?'

'Sorry Jess?' Mark wrenched his attention back to the young man before him 'What was that?'

Jesse smiled 'Earth to Mark! Are you with us?'

Mark smiled back 'You know' he said 'I was just thinking that usually you can tell an awful lot about a person by the way they decorate their office'.

'Usually?' Amanda said raising an eyebrow.

'Uh huh' Mark frowned 'But in the case of Natasha Summers there's nothing'

'Whaddaya mean nothing?' Jesse said 'Look around you Mark, there's pictures, souvenirs, books …'

'Yes' Mark agreed, 'but there's nothing really personal.  What's on display here is the image Mrs. Summers wants the world to see'.  Noticing Amanda and Jesse's puzzled looks he tried to explain further 'Look at these photographs, what do you notice about them?'

Jesse screwed up his face 'They're all in exotic locations?'

'Well yes they are' Mark said 'but that wasn't really what I was getting at'

'They're all recent!' Amanda exclaimed excitedly

'Exactly' Mark said with satisfaction 'Which means that there's a whole earlier part of her life that she doesn't want anyone to know about'.

'Whoa!' Jesse's eyebrows had shot up into his hairline.

'And you know what else I think?' Mark said 

'What?' Jesse and Amanda chorused in unison

'That David Summers' office will be exactly the same.

***

In the interrogation room Tanis did a final check of everything she needed for the interview.  Her notes, the tape recorder with tape in place and the obligatory coffee – yep she was good to go.  She tapped her foot impatiently.  She'd done interrogations alone hundreds of times, but today she felt vulnerable.  She'd gotten used to Steve's strong reassuring presence at her side. 'C'mon Archer' she chided herself 'You're a big girl now, you can handle a little interrogation'.

Inadvertently she thought of Steve – what was he doing right now, she wondered.  She wished she could have spoken to him on the phone, at least cleared the air between them.  As it was the longer she went without seeing him, the more nervous she was about his return.  In fact, it had gotten to the stage where she broke out into a cold sweat every time she thought about it.  What would she say?  How would she act?  It would take plenty of careful planning if she didn't wanna make a fool out of herself again.  She sighed, at least time was on her side, the way Steve was avoiding her right now, she wouldn't have to deal with facing him for quite a while yet.  She smiled ruefully – thank heaven for small mercies!

The door when it finally opened made her jump.  She looked up to see Natasha Summers, looking every bit as beautiful as she remembered.  And then Tanis gasped, but it wasn't Natasha's beauty that had taken her breath away, rather it was the man accompanying her.  Instead of the uniform she'd expected, Natasha Summers was escorted into the interrogation room by Steve Sloan. 

TO BE CONTINUED ……


	34. Chapter 36

Author's Note: Thanks very much for the continued reviews (both of this story and my Christmas story).  As I've said before and as you probably know from your own experience, constructive reviews are amazingly motivating! 

As Tanis looked at Steve, her heart seemed to skip a beat.  His head was still bandaged, he looked deathly pale and a little unsteady on his feet and his shirt was done up on all the wrong buttons, but it was him none the less.  She took a steadying breath, determined to get herself together. The impact of his physical presence upon her was immense, but she'd already made a fool of herself once, she wasn't about to do it again.

Not meeting Tanis' eyes, Steve was all business. 'Take a seat Mrs Summers' he instructed brusquely, indicating a chair opposite Tanis 'we have some questions we'd like to ask you'.

'Of course Detective' she purred.  As she slinked seductively past, almost overpowering him with her perfume, she placed a well-manicured hand on his arm 'Anything to help'.

Instinctively, Tanis felt her hackles rising.  The slight touch, though innocuous in the extreme, seemed somehow intimate when instigated by Natasha.   Perhaps, she thought wryly, it was because the woman's entire essence shrieked sex appeal.  From the tight fitting black cat suit that clung in all the right places, to the pouty red lips, wanton mane of glorious jet-black hair, and sophisticated cigarette holder that dangled from fingers whose nails were painted a vibrant crimson, there was no doubt that Natasha Summers was a femme fatale of the highest calibre.  Tanis sighed, how could she compete with that?  She knew men, and in her heart of hearts she knew that Steve would have to be blind not to appreciate Natasha's considerable assets.  

Then she laughed at herself, who was she kidding?  There was no competition; she'd never even been in the running.   It was clear to her now, that whatever had happened between them at the hospital, it had been of her making, not his.  All of Steve's actions since smacked of a man embarrassed by his previous behaviour, a man who wanted to forget.  She bit her lip, if that's what he wanted then she had no choice but to go along with it.

Returning her attention to the scene before her, she observed quietly for a moment.  Steve had taken a chair to her right; meaning eye contact was pretty nigh impossible.  Lounging backwards, with arms crossed; from his profile she guessed he was wearing his usual 'Don't waste my time expression', an expression that he habitually adopted for interrogations.  The gruff exterior was designed to intimidate the suspect and to show he meant business.  She sighed; this was obviously easier for him than it was for her.  He was focused on Natasha and seemed completely oblivious to Tanis herself, whilst she found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.  Like a magnet they were drawn back to him time and time again, no matter how hard she tried to look away.

Despite the thumping headache that served to remind him that he was still concussed, Steve was incredibly aware of Tanis' presence beside him.  Though he'd barely glanced at her as he entered, he knew without looking that she was her usual composed self.  Somehow, that very fact made his own feelings seem all the more pitiful.  Whilst seeing her again had struck him like a blow to the solar plexus, she in contrast, was completely unaffected by his presence.  And why shouldn't she be?  It was obvious to him now, that whatever had happened at the hospital, it had been his doing, not hers.  He sighed, this was a lot tougher than he'd expected.  How was he supposed to conduct an interrogation whilst his heart beat so erratically, his insides were in knots and the merest hint of her perfume had him trembling with anticipation?  

He didn't dare to look at her, lest his resolve weakened.  He was fighting desperately to keep his expression blank, maintain his poker face.  If she saw his eyes, he knew he'd be done for.  His deepest feelings would be revealed and that would embarrass them both.  Taking a breath, he strove to affect the bored, no nonsense cop persona he usually did so well, and if he came off a little more brusque than he intended, well it was a small price to pay to keep his dignity intact.

Purposely ignoring Tanis, with steely determination he focused all his attention on Natasha.  He had to admit she was a fine looking woman.  The hair was long and lustrous, the almond shaped eyes almost hypnotic in their beauty.  Add the curvaceous figure and those full red lips and well, he could imagine exactly what Jesse's response would have been.  He smiled ruefully, a couple of days earlier and he would probably have thought the exact same thing, but not now.  

The only woman he was interested in right now, was the one sitting beside him; unfortunately she didn't feel the same way.  Compared to Tanis, Natasha's beauty seemed too contrived, the lips a little too red, the mascara a little too heavy.  She was predatory, like a wild animal awaiting its prey.  And something else, she seemed somehow 'other-worldly', as if she didn't belong here, not really.  There was a strange aura about her that permeated the room.   He shivered and then shook his head, now he was letting his mind play tricks on him.  There was no mystical aura; it must be just the exotic scent she had liberally applied, combined with the bitter tang of her foreign cigarettes.  The aroma wasn't doing much for his headache, but it was hardly supernatural.

Finally tearing her eyes away from Steve to view her adversary, Tanis chewed her lip thoughtfully.  Mrs Summers, or 'the black widow' as Tanis had privately dubbed her, certainly didn't improve with keeping.  She was just the type of woman Tanis despised; one who used her undoubted beauty to get exactly what she wanted.  Thinking back to Vicky Harris she sighed, the kid hadn't stood a chance.  Not that she agreed with extra marital affairs of course, quite the opposite, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for Vicky.  The girl was young and in love, people did stupid things when they were in love, Tanis smiled ruefully, herself included.  But what of Natasha she wondered, did the black widow love anyone apart from herself?  Did she love anyone enough to kill?

***

In the LA Central Library Jesse sneezed loudly, as the enormous volume he'd dragged from the heaving shelf brought with it a whole heap of dust.

'Bless you' Amanda responded automatically from where she was seated at a polished wood table behind him.  Not looking up she continued flicking half-heartedly through the pages of a large and slightly battered edition of the Yale University Year Book for 1982/83.  They were down in the basement and for once they had the place to themselves.

'Thank you' Jesse responded wiping his watering eyes 'You know Mark', he continued 'I hope we find something soon, cause this dust is killing me'.

'What exactly are we looking for Mark?' Amanda asked 'Because at the moment I can't see anything that's gonna help us solve this case'.

Thoughtful, Mark sat down opposite her 'Well I can't quite put my finger on it' he sighed 'but you know there's gotta be a clue somewhere in David Summers' past'.  Stroking his moustache he continued pondering aloud 'This whole thing is tied to his masters thesis, which was written whilst he was at Yale.  And that's the past, not the present.  The killer purposely re-enacted the revenge curse that Summers described in his post graduate research.'  He turned to them eyes shinning 'so the way I figure, it has to be somebody out for revenge, and it has to be linked to something that happened at Yale, whilst he was writing the thesis – doesn't make sense otherwise'.

'Somebody like Natasha?' Jesse queried 'We know they met at Yale'

'Somebody like Natasha' Mark agreed 'If we can find out what went on between David and Natasha whilst they were at Yale, then you know I think we'll find our motive and our killer'.  He smiled at them 'After all, Yale was the part of their lives missing from both of their offices – there has to be something in their past at Yale, that neither of them wants anyone to know about'.

 'But how do we find it?' Jesse asked.

Amanda looked at him rolling her eyes wearily 'By looking through all these old books!' she groaned indicating the pile of books stacked on the table before them.

Mark smiled 'That's the plan'.

***

'We found the masters thesis in your office Mrs. Summers' Steve said, his tone firm.

'Well of course you did Detective' she replied with a little girl smile 'David was my husband, we were in the same field, it would be strange if I hadn't read his thesis now wouldn't it?'

'We know the killer read the thesis' Tanis interjected 'the murders follow the exact pattern set out in the revenge ritual that David described'.

'I agree' Natasha said 'In fact I can't believe I hadn't noticed it before'.  She smiled again 'Silly me, but then I suppose I really hadn't thought about David's little thesis for a while.  He wrote it whilst we were both students'.  She fluttered her eyelashes and giggled alluringly at Steve, pointedly ignoring Tanis 'that was in the past Detective, when we were young and carefree'.

Steve grunted non-comitially, but didn't reply.  Tanis wondered whether he was being taken in by Natasha.  He certainly wasn't his usual self, but perhaps it was the head injury?  He still looked pale and shaky and he seemed slow to respond.  Well then, it was up to her to seize the initiative.  After all, she was a good cop, having her heart broken shouldn't interfere with her ability to do her job.  Taking a deep breath Tanis began her attack.

'So you agree that the killer had to have read the thesis?' she asked.  Natasha nodded.

 'And you admit that you've read the thesis yourself' Tanis continued.  Again Natasha nodded.

'So' Tanis said  'you can see why we might think you had the means to commit the crime?'

Natasha smiled languorously 'I can see that yes, but anyone could have read that thesis, it is after all stored at the public library'.  She turned to Steve with a coy smile 'In fact Detective, your own father has read David's thesis has he not?'

Steve shifted awkwardly, she had a point, anybody could have had access to that thesis.  He swallowed hard, trying to get his thoughts together, but with Tanis sitting so close it was hard to concentrate.  He felt kinda weak and shaky – the concussion surely?  After a longer pause than he would have liked, he was finally able to smile back 'That's true Mrs. Summers' he said evenly, 'anybody could have read the thesis, but not everybody had a motive'.

She pursed her lips, a hand fluttering to her chest 'Are you insinuating that I had a motive?' she asked, her eyes wide with innocence, her tone implying that her feelings were hurt by the very suggestion.

'How about the fact that your husband was having an affair with Vicky Harris?' Tanis said bluntly, then sat back waiting for the reaction.  It wasn't the one she was expecting.

Natasha Summers laughed.  It was a deep laugh, a husky one, no doubt the result of smoking too many of those exotic cigarettes she was so found of.

'Oh silly girl' she said.

Initially Tanis wasn't sure who Natasha was referring to, Vicky Harris or Tanis herself!  As it turned out, Natasha's next comment clarified the issue.

'She thought David loved her' Natasha said, shaking her head 'I mean how ridiculous, she was just a child'.

'But they were having an affair' Steve interjected gruffly.

'Oh, of sorts' Natasha replied airily, waving a hand in the air to indicate the frivolity of the whole thing.

'You mean it didn't bother you that your husband was seeing another woman, a mere child?' Tanis said provokingly.

Carefully examining one of her crimson nails, Natasha refused to rise 'Surely you don't think it was the first time do you?'

Steve and Tanis gaped at her, as Natasha continued 'Oh David had many little indiscretions over the years, a freshman here, an upper classman there.  How do you think we got together?  He was seeing someone else when he got together with me.   He was an attractive man, an ex football star.  She yawned 'It continued after we were married.  I knew about them all of course, but I turned a blind eye.  I think partly he was just paying me back for a little fling I had at University.  The boot was on the other foot then and he didn't like it one bit'.   She looked at Tanis and giggled 'Well you know men and their egos!'

Tanis raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.

'Anyway' Natasha continued  'I thought after awhile he'd get it out of his system, but it seems he wasn't quite there yet'.

'If you were so unconcerned' Steve said 'why did you tell your husband to end the affair?'

She sighed 'They were getting careless, other people were starting to notice.  I didn't want him to tarnish my career or his'.  She looked at the two officers, her eyes shinning with the intense light of one obsessed 'I don't think you really understand the implications of what we're working on here.  This project is the biggest I've ever been involved with.  If we succeed we'll go down in history for ever'.  She smiled, a self-satisfied smile like the cat that's got the cream 'I've always wanted to be immortal' she purred.

'You know you were the only one at the scene with the knowledge to carry out the ritual' Tanis said, unwilling to give up.

'But you asked me to meet you there' Natasha said reasonably

'Yeah' Steve said 'but you never showed until just after the attack.  How exactly do you account for the time in between?'

She stretched luxuriously 'As I told Chief Masters, I got stuck in traffic and then I realised I'd run out of cigarettes, so I called in to get some'.  She shrugged 'I tried calling but your cell was switched off'.

Steve sighed, this was hopeless, the woman had an answer for everything, and yet he wasn't ready to give in just yet.  His gut was telling him that there were just too many coincidences.  Was she lying?  Was she holding something back?  He was picking up vibes, but whether it was the remnants of his concussion or the distraction of his feelings for Tanis, he just couldn't read the vibes at all.

'So Detective, do you have any more questions for me?' Natasha inquired sweetly.

'Not right now' Steve said 'but I must warn you that until this murder investigation is cleared up, you are still a suspect and as such must not leave the United States'.

As she reached the door, wafting perfume as she went, Natasha turned back to Steve 'You know Detective, if you really knew your Egyptology you'd know that I'm not your killer' she said archly  'In fact, it's highly likely that I was to be the next victim.'

'Oh really?' Steve said irritably

'Really' she replied

'And just how would I know that?' Steve asked

'Because Detective, according to the ritual, the next victim was to be the tribe's body guard, right?'

Steve nodded 'That's right'.

'In Ancient Egypt' she said, pausing for effect 'the body guards were always women'.

 As Steve and Tanis gasped, she tossed her hair dramatically and flounced from the room.

***

'Boy' Jesse said peering at a colour photograph in one of the yearbooks 'This guy was a pretty mean football player, team won the State Championships in '83.'

'Really?' Amanda said 'Let me see.'

Jesse passed it over and she smirked 'Nice hair!'

'Hey' Jesse protested 'What's wrong with it?'  He smiled 'I think it looks pretty neat'.  He ran a hand through his own hair 'I think it'd look good on me and you know the 80's were great, think of the music - punk rock, new romantics'.   He continued eagerly, 'You know they have 80's revival nights on Tuesdays at the Cabana Club, how about we try it out?'

Amanda pulled a face and Mark chuckled.

'Besides the football picture, have you found anything else?' Mark asked

'Well' Jesse sighed ' Natasha and David Summers were both in the archaeology society, but no surprise there.  He played football and she was a cheerleader'.  He grinned 'Boy she was hot!'

Amanda tutted loudly, and Jesse carried on hastily 'He was a masters student and she was a lower classman.  Both real popular as it goes, but ..' he said 'David  did interrupt his studies in the spring of '83, which is kinda odd'.  

Mark raised his eyebrows 'Now that sounds interesting'.

'There's also a list of the Masters students who enrolled on the course at the same time as Summers did and then there's another list of those who actually graduated'.  Not all of them made it through.'  He smiled 'Some of them were on the football team with Summers, guess they did more partying than studying!'

'Hmmm' Mark frowned thoughtfully 'That might be worth looking into too.'

'But Mark' Amanda exclaimed 'this yearbook is from twenty years ago, how on earth would we track these people down?  If Natasha has something to hide, she's not gonna want to help.'

'The internet!' Jesse beamed triumphantly

'Actually' Mark replied 'You know I had a more old fashioned method in mind.'

Amanda raised her eyebrows enquiringly

'Yale must have an admissions office' he explained 'Maybe they still have records of past students'.

'Or' Amanda said thoughtfully 'an alumni association. ' She smiled 'I still get the Alumni magazine from my old medical school, it's a great way to keep up with old friends'.

'Oh you're good!' Mark said approvingly, impressed by her quick thinking.

She smiled 'I try!'

'Amanda pass me that book over here will you?' Mark said 'I'm gonna get together a list of names and then make some phone calls to Yale'.

'Sure thing' she replied 'And while you do that, I'm gonna go get us some coffee'.  

She looked at Jesse, who was seated comfortably and showed no signs of moving.  She raised her eyebrows and he groaned 'Why is it always me?' he asked as he trailed in her wake.

Mark smiled and then turned his attention back to the yearbook.  Looking for the relevant page, he flicked through it absently, chuckling at the photographs as he did so.  Amanda was right; the 80's was not a good decade for fashion!  He shuddered remembering some of the dreadful clothes Steve had worn.  Thankfully by the time the 80's had arrived, he himself had been too old to be a slave to fashion.  The forties and fifties, now that was more his era!

And then something caught his eye.  Switching on the light, he peered more closely at the picture and then he read the paragraph underneath and gulped.  He spoke out loud, his voice echoing in the empty library 'I think I found our killer!'

**TO BE CONTINUED …….**


	35. Chapter 37

**Thanks for the reviews, here's the next instalment!**

After Natasha had gone, Steve slumped at the desk, his head in his hands.  Biting her lip Tanis looked at him and wondered where to start.  Somehow offering him coffee didn't seem quite right this time.  Their relationship had changed.  With that one fleeting moment at the hospital they had crossed a line and she wasn't sure they could go back.  She longed to reach out and touch him, to stroke the dark blonde hair that fell across his forehead, but there was no way.  He wasn't interested.

She could still see the white bandage, the pallor of his complexion.  Automatically she thought back to the attack.  Despite his injury, he'd come back for her, saved her.  But then he'd do that for anyone wouldn't he?  She longed to talk, to break the tension between them, but the words just wouldn't come.  How could she tell him it was okay, that she'd settle for just being friends?  How could she discuss their 'relationship' without embarrassing them both?  She sighed, she was as bad at expressing her feelings as he was; that was the problem.  So here they were in this stale mate, two grown people who couldn't talk about their feelings.

Suddenly she was angry.  She wasn't a kid anymore, ruled by emotions and hormones she couldn't control.  How could she ruin a perfectly good working relationship over one almost kiss?  She'd created this mess by throwing herself at Steve; it was up to her to clear it up.  Okay so they couldn't go back, but they could go forward - couldn't they?

She had to try, anything was better than the awkwardness that had surrounded the Natasha Summers interrogation.  Tanis wasn't blind; she'd noticed that Steve hadn't looked at her once.  Normally during interrogations they worked as a team, bouncing off each other, exchanging glances, but just then it had been painfully obvious they'd both been working alone. It couldn't go on like this.  She'd decided, they had to talk and it had to be now.

Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth 'Steve' she said nervously.

He looked up, face pale, eyes refusing to meet hers 'I gotta go' he said suddenly, getting swiftly to his feet and pushing past her.

'What?' she exclaimed in surprise 'Where are you going?'

'I've just thought of something I wanna follow up' he said.

'Well then we'll go together' she said, reluctant to give up on the chance to talk 'I'll drive you; you're in no condition …'

'No it's fine' he interrupted coldly 'I'll walk, I need some air.'

'But Steve' she protested, reaching out to stop him, her head spinning 'If it's the case then shouldn't I go with you?  What about back-up?'

'What's the matter?' he snapped, shrugging off her hand 'Don't you trust me to do my job?  You're just like the rest of them aren't you?  You think I'm not up to it'.

She drew back stung 'Of course I trust you' she said 'it's just that we've been working together on this case and I thought that well …' she tailed off lamely.

'Well you thought wrong' he said harshly.   'Look' he continued brusquely 'working together hasn't gotten us anywhere so far has it?  I think it's time we split, spread our resources'.

She was angry now, so much for behaving like adults.  What did he think she couldn't control herself; that she'd be trailing around after him drooling like a love struck teenager?

 'Sure' she spat back bitterly 'Let's spread our resources, I mean I wouldn't wanna slow you down, Lieutenant'.

He threw up his hands in exasperation 'That's not what I'm saying and you know it'.

'Oh I know exactly what you're saying' she said 'But you don't have to worry, I'll get out of your hair'.  She pushed past him, heading for the door 'See ya around Steve' she said and then she was gone.

'Tanis!' he called after her, but all he heard in reply was the sound of her footsteps as she ran down the corridor.

Slumping back against the wall he buried his face in his hands.

***

At the beach house Mark sat alone on the couch.  Leaning back thoughtfully, eyes half closed, he began hatching his plan.  So he knew who the killer was, but how to prove it?  This killer was smart, very smart and yet there had to be a way.  Everyone had their weaknesses, their failings, their Achilles heel.  If he could just work out the killer's, then he could use it to his advantage.  It would come to him, he knew, he just needed a little time.  He had to think himself into the killer's mind and then he'd get his answer.  He heard a noise and opened his eyes.  It was Amanda.  She sat down beside him, rearranging her skirt beneath her.  He hadn't told Jesse and Amanda what he'd found, he wanted to be sure first – there were still a few details to check out.  He looked at her expectantly.  It was obvious from her expression that she'd gotten something.

'So' she said letting out a breath 'I finally got hold of Jack Wilder, who played on the football team with David Summers'.  She shook her head wearily 'It took a lot of phone calls let me tell you!'

'But?' Mark prompted

She smiled 'But it seems you were right, Summers did have something to hide'.  

'He did?' Mark asked, raising his eyebrows.

'Apparently there was a huge bust up' she said 'round about Spring of '82. Summers even lost his place on the team for a while.  He took an enforced study break whilst everything was sorted out.  Wilder wasn't sure exactly what it was about, but it was serious – something both Summers and the university wanted to keep quiet.'

'Really?' Mark said, eyes narrowing 'Now that is interesting.'

'He thinks it was some sort of academic issue' Amanda continued 'maybe Summers was put on academic probation or something?'

'I wonder …' Mark said, getting up from the couch and heading for the door.

'Wonder what?' she said in confusion 'Mark, where are you going?'

'To make a phone call' he replied.

'Mark, your coffee' Jesse said as he passed the older doctor.

'Thanks Jess' Mark said absently, taking a cup from Jesse's tray, but not stopping.

Bemused Jesse set the tray down on the table in front of Amanda and looked at her in confusion 'What's going on?' he asked.

She shrugged 'Don't ask me.  You know what he's like when he's on to something – act first and explain later'.

Jesse grinned, flopping down in a chair opposite her and reaching for the TV remote 'That's Mark alright.  No wonder it drives Steve crazy'.

At the mention of Steve's name Amanda frowned 'I hope he's okay' she said worriedly.

'Mark?' Jesse grinned 'C'mon you know how much he loves it when he's involved in a case'.

Exasperated she threw a cushion at him 'Not Mark' she said 'Steve.  I thought he'd be here when we got back'.

Jesse shrugged 'But if he's gone into work then that's a good thing right?'  He looked at her with a grin 'Okay so as doctors, we wouldn't recommend working with a concussion, but at least it means Steve is back to his normal self, right?'

She frowned 'I guess, but you can never tell with Steve'.

Jesse threw the cushion back at her and began to flick from channel to channel with the remote 'Stop worrying, he'll be fine.  Besides we should be grateful for one thing'.

She looked at him quizzically

'At least he took a cab'.

*******

In the back of the cab, Steve stared angrily out of the window at the traffic, as they pulled off PCH.  God, how he hated not having his own wheels!  He should have taken the truck, at least then he could have taken it for a spin, worked out some of his frustration.  Instead he was cooped up in the back of this cab, at the mercy of someone else's driving.  There was no air conditioning and although he'd cranked down the window, all he'd succeeded in getting so far was a large dose of smog and traffic fumes.  To cap it all, his head was pounding, a tight band of pain crushing his forehead, squeezing ever tighter.

As he sat, a prisoner in the overheated yellow taxi, he could feel the anger inside him, threatening to explode.  He was angry at the taxi driver who seemed to be taking the slowest route possible, and at the traffic, which even at this time had built up to the extent that they were now moving at an unbearable crawl, but most of all he was angry at himself.  His encounter with Tanis couldn't have gone worse.  Their partnership had been blown sky high and it was all his fault. 

 It had been so much harder to be around her than he'd anticipated.  He'd been so desperate to cover up his true feelings, to save their partnership, to show her he could handle just being friends.  But that was the problem; he couldn't handle it, at least not right now.  That was why he'd suggested some time apart.  When she'd refused he'd gotten desperate, acting angry seemed the only escape.  And then suddenly he hadn't been acting anymore, the hurt, the frustration had taken over and he really was angry – at her, at the situation, at the rejection.  But as usual, his anger had gone too far.  It seemed to be the one emotion he could never control, all those other emotions he'd kept bottled up during the interrogation – they'd come out as rage.  

He'd seen the wounded look in her eyes, the way she'd run from him.  Part of him was glad that he'd been able to upset her; to hurt her as she'd hurt him, but the greater part of him felt nothing but sorrow.  He might never have had her love, but at least he'd had her friendship.  Now even that was gone.  In frustration he thumped his fist against the car door, earning himself a warning glance from the driver up front.  Irritably he flashed his badge and the driver let it go, muttering darkly to himself about crazy cops.  

Throwing himself back against the seat and drumming his fingers impatiently against the arm rest, suddenly Steve was angry at Tanis again.  Why couldn't she have humoured him, gone along with his suggestion?  She knew what he felt for her, knew what was going on.  She could have let him off the hook, agreed to some time apart, but no.  Suddenly it occurred to him that maybe she was enjoying his predicament, may be she liked toying with his feelings.  Bitterness rose like bile in his throat.  He gagged.  The taxi driver looked back once more

'Hey buddy, you okay?'

'Pull over' Steve said tersely

'What?' the driver said in confusion 'I thought we were going to Malibu'

'Just do it' Steve replied 'now!'.

As the driver pulled over into a lay by, Steve thrust a fist full of dollar bills into his hand and stumbled out of the cab into the hazy afternoon sunshine.  Behind a billboard poster for 'luscious lipstick' he retched and vomited.  When he was done he slid shakily to the floor, breathing hard, his back supported by one of the struts from the board.  He was two miles from home, with a crunching headache.  He'd lost his partner and the case had gone stone cold.  What the hell was he gonna do now?

*******

When Mark returned, Jesse was heavily engrossed in 'The Weird and the Wonderful' on Cable, whilst Amanda was on her cell, apparently arranging a baby sitter for CJ.  Mark smiled and waited for them to notice his presence.   Amanda spotted him first.  Quickly terminating her call she jumped up.

'Well?' she demanded.  Jesse, alerted by her voice, snapped off the TV.  Now he had their full attention, Mark beamed.

'I know who the killer is and I know how to prove it' he said.


	36. Chapter 38

He was tired, thirsty and irritable.  Never had 2 miles felt longer, the road seeming to stretch out forever before him.  He could have called – Jesse, Amanda, his Dad, any one of them would have driven out and picked him up, but his pride wouldn't let him.  So instead he walked, trudging wearily through the heat and the dust.  After the first mile, he paused for a moment to gather his strength, using his shirt sleeve to wipe away the sweat.  Damn but it was hot! He was already carrying his jacket, but his shirt was still soaked, the turquoise material that Amanda had once teasingly told him matched his eyes, had turned a deep blue.  What the hell was he thinking, getting out of a perfectly good cab in the middle of nowhere, to put himself through a punishing walk in the afternoon sun?  It wouldn't have been an easy walk under normal circumstances, but when he was still coming off a concussion?  He knew he was stubborn, but he wasn't usually stupid.

He sighed; it was time to start behaving like an adult.  He reached for his cell and began to punch in the number, but was interrupted by the sound of a horn and a familiarly cheerful voice.

'Need a ride?' the voice shouted.  Steve looked up.  The man in the car looked cool and relaxed.  His shades were hiding his eyes, but there was no mistaking the beaming smile, the spiky blonde hair or the open topped sports convertible.  Jesse reached around in the back seat and held up a bag of ribs 'I've got your favourite!' he said enticingly 'I'm in charge of dinner tonight so I stopped off at Bob's'.

Steve felt weak with relief, but was desperate not to show it.  Mustering some energy at last, he loped over to the car and tried to arrange his face into a neutral smile.  Jesse popped the latch and Steve collapsed thankfully into the passenger seat beside him.

'Taking a walk, huh?' Jesse asked nonchalantly, as he eased his car back into the steady stream of traffic.

Steve nodded, avoiding Jesse's inquisitive gaze 'Figured I could use the exercise after spending all that time in bed.'  Even to his own ears it sounded lame, but Jesse simply nodded.

'So how's the head?' he asked

Steve sighed, once a doctor always a doctor – he wouldn't get out of that one so easily.  Looking at Jesse, he finally smiled sheepishly 'It feels like there's an axe in my skull' he admitted.

Immediately Jesse was all business 'There's pain killers in the glove box, but go steady okay'.  He looked at Steve closely, reaching over in an attempt to examine him further 'You know you look a little dehydrated'.

Steve slapped his hand away 'Hey Jess, eyes on the road huh?' he said 'Don't make me book you for dangerous driving'.

Jesse grinned, glad to see a little of Steve's humour had returned, but he was worried.   What exactly had Steve been doing out here?  Getting a little exercise?  It was possible, but not likely.   Steve was inclined to view himself as indestructible, but surely even he wouldn't walk for miles in the LA heat, with no water and a concussion, through choice.  And, 'little exercise' or not, the guy had been ready to drop.  He was doing a good job covering, but Jesse knew exhaustion when he saw it.  The final clincher was what Jesse had seen in his face, in those few moments before Steve had noticed him.  He knew Steve and it was pretty obvious something was wrong.  The guy was in a state about something; that was for sure.

Jesse glanced over at his companion, hoping to glean something more from his expression, but Steve's eyes were closed.  From the sound of his breathing he was either asleep or pretending to be.  Jesse sighed, but knew not to push.  He'd been around Steve long enough to know when to keep his curiosity to himself.  Steve had a short fuse, particularly when he was under the weather; pushing him to talk when he didn't want to would only lead to a loss of temper followed by stony silence.  

Instinctively, Jesse knew that Steve knew that he was worried about him and that he'd be willing to help in any way he could.  Their friendship had long ago evolved to the point where words were not always necessary.  Jesse knew that if Steve needed to talk then he would, for now what he needed was a ride home and Jesse was happy to oblige.  Helping himself to one of the ribs from the take out bag, he chewed thoughtfully and continued the drive in silence.

 Steve, thankful for Jesse's silence, kept his eyes shut, breathing deeply.   He knew he could talk to Jesse, that the young man would be only to eager to help in any way he could, but right now he didn't feel like talking.  Besides where would he start?  He didn't even know how to explain it to himself, never mind to anybody else.  Right now all he wanted to do was sleep

*******

Mark and Amanda had just finished laying the table outside on the veranda, when the glass doors opened and Jesse bounded through, weighed down with boxes of take-out.  'Dinner is served' he announced cheerily 'And look who I found ..' he paused before adding meaningfully '…  out taking a walk'.

Steve came out more slowly, carrying the remainder of the boxes, which he deposited on the table.

'Steve, what …' Mark began, shocked at his son's dishevelled state.   He cut off quickly on spotting Jesse, who now standing behind Steve, was shaking his head in warning.

'Why don't you go sit down inside for awhile' he said instead 'you look a little warm and it's still mighty hot out here'.

Steve sighed wearily 'I'm fine Dad, just over did it a little on the exercise is all'.  But it was a token protest and they all knew it.  Without further argument he walked back into the house and flopped down on the coach.

Still outside, the others exchanged glances. 

'Jess?' Mark said questioningly.

The young man shrugged 'He's not talking' he said.  'I found him wandering along the freeway about a mile back.  I don't know how far he'd walked, but by the time I got there he was ready to drop'.

'He was out walking in this heat with a concussion?' Mark said incredulously.  He shook his head angrily 'He knows better than that'.

'Go easy on him Mark' Jesse said gently 'He's upset about something.  I don't know what, but something's going on'.

Mark squeezed Jesse's arm on his way past 'Thanks Jess'.

***

As he entered the cool darkness of the living room, Mark looked worriedly at his son.  Steve was slumped on the couch, eyes closed.  Walking quietly to the kitchen, Mark filled a tumbler with cold water and brought it back with him.  Sitting down next to Steve he patted him on the knee 'Drink this' he instructed 'It'll make you feel better'.

Steve opened his eyes 'Dad I already told you I'm fine' he said, but he took the water just the same.

They sat in silence for awhile and then Mark spoke 'So you wanna talk about it?'

Briefly Steve shut his eyes again 'No, I don't wanna talk about it'.

'Okay' Mark said 'Then we won't talk about it'.

There was silence again.  Steve sipped his water, whilst Mark stared contemplatively into space.  Eventually Steve spoke 'I really blew it' he said quietly.

Mark paused and then 'Are we talking about the case here or Tanis?' he said with a slight smile.

Steve looked at him incredulously – boy his father didn't miss a trick.  And here he'd been thinking he'd kept his problem with Tanis hidden.  He should have known he'd never conceal anything from his father.  He sighed and then smiled ruefully 'Both' he said.

Mark smiled back 'So which do you wanna tell me about first?'

Steve groaned 'I feel like such an idiot' he said.

Gently Mark patted him on the shoulder 'Happens to us all son' he said

Steve grunted 'Well I seem to be making a career out of it'.

'Now that's not true' Mark said 'You know you've been under a lot of pressure lately and ..'

'And I've cracked' Steve finished miserably 'you might as well say it Dad, that's what everyone's thinking'.  He sighed 'I've blown this case.  Because of me there's still a killer on the loose and we're no closer to catching him than we were three weeks ago'.

'Oh I wouldn't say that' Mark replied.  He had a twinkle in his eye, but Steve didn't see it.

'Oh yeah?' Steve said bitterly 'Dad, what exactly have I achieved in these last couple of weeks, besides arresting an innocent girl, getting a concussion and shooting my own partner?'

'First off' Mark said 'By arresting Vicky Harris, you not only eliminated a prime suspect, but found out some key information that's gonna help solve this case'.  Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mark held up a hand 'secondly' he continued purposefully 'although you got a concussion, it could have been a lot worse and thirdly, by shooting your partner, you saved her life'.

'But Dad' Steve pointed out 'If I hadn't gone charging off like that with no back-up then she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place'.

'But you don't know that' Mark said in surprise 'Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't gone to check it out'.  He paused and looked at his son closely 'Steve' he said gently 'what's the real issue here?'

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Looking down at the now empty water glass in his hands he said 'I really like her Dad'.

'Oooh' Mark said meaningfully.

Still looking down Steve continued awkwardly 'At the hospital, right before you and Jesse came in, we .. er … ' he paused and looked up 'we almost kissed, okay'.

Mark raised his eyebrows, so he had been right; he and Jesse had interrupted something.  He looked at his son slightly puzzled 'But almost kissing is good right?' he said.

Steve shook his head sadly 'She doesn't think so'.

'She said that?'  Mark asked in surprise.  He couldn't believe it; he'd been so sure there was a mutual attraction between the pair of them.

'She didn't have to' Steve replied gloomily 'You saw her Dad, she couldn't get out that hospital fast enough'.

'But Steve …' Mark said

'Look Dad, don't try and make me feel better' Steve continued bitterly 'I know she's not interested.  You should have seen her today; she was acting as if nothing had happened, like it was just another day in the office.  Meanwhile I'm all tied up in knots just because she's in the room'.  He sighed 'I didn't mean to snap, but it just got me so angry'.

'What happened?' Mark asked

Steve shifted guiltily 'I told her I thought we should work on our own for a while.  She didn't take it too well.  In fact she got real upset'.

Mark smiled 'Steve, I'm not so sure you've got this right'.

Steve looked pained 'Dad, that's what happened' he protested 'I know I've had a bump on the head but my memory still works fine'.

Mark smiled again cryptically 'I'm sure that is what happened, but I also think you're wrong about Tanis.  Son, I think she may be a little more interested than you think'.

Steve frowned 'Why would you think that?'

Mark winked and placed a hand on his son's arm 'Experience' he said with a grin 'Talk to her'.

Steve frowned 'I don't know Dad; I think I'm the last person she'd wanna talk to right now.'

Mark just chuckled 'Trust me' he said.

'Dinner's up!' Jesse shouted through from outside.

Mark stood up with a smile 'Whaddaya say; you feel up to some food?'

Finally Steve grinned 'Sure' he said with a spark of humour 'all that walking I kinda built up an appetite.

Mark put his arm around his son as they strolled companionably out to the veranada 'And after we eat you're gonna get some rest, you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow'.

Steve looked puzzled 'Why what am I gonna do tomorrow?' he asked

Mark grinned 'Solve this case' he said

**To be continued ……..**


	37. Chapter 39

In the corridor of the archaeology building quite a crowd had gathered.  For once they weren't police officers, but ordinary men and women - professors, teaching assistants, research students, porters, janitors, technicians and more.  A cosmopolitan group, they were a veritable mix of gender and age, white collar workers and blue.  As they waited, conversation buzzed at a low hum.  Some were enjoying the mid afternoon break from work, savouring the chance to stop and catch up with colleagues, others were less patient, tapping feet and checking watches, obviously dragged reluctant from their ivory towers and desperate to return.

At the back of the group, dressed smartly in blue blazer and dark brown slacks, Mark Sloan stood quietly and watched, a half smile playing across his face.  His son, also dressed for the occasion, looked at little more perturbed.  Leaning across to his father, Steve bent in close and whispered in his ear 'Dad, are you sure this is gonna work?'

Mark shrugged cheerfully 'If I've read the killer right and I'm pretty sure that I have, then it should work like a charm' he whispered back.  Turning back to peruse the crowd once more, he smiled unconcernedly and waved at John Anderson the porter, who was standing to their right.

'Mmmh' Steve grunted, tugging irritably at the unfamiliar tie around his neck.  It was a big 'if' but for now he didn't have any better suggestions.  When his father had first outlined the plan the previous evening he'd been sceptical.  So much depended on the psychology of the killer - personality, motivation, and perhaps most of all ego.  His father was pretty sharp, but he was a doctor not a psychologist. Would the killer really respond in the way his Dad predicted?  If not, all this was for show, a further waste of his time whilst the killer ran free to plot murder number four.  He sighed heavily.  He was trying to think positively, but it was hard to be optimistic when all they really had to go on was 'pop psychology' and ancient history. 

 And then there was Tanis.  

As seemed to have become a habit, she was never far from his thoughts.  Last night, after much persuading, he'd finally plucked up the courage to call her.  He almost groaned aloud remembering the butterflies and sweating palms as he'd dialled her number, followed by the mixture of relief and crushing disappointment when she hadn't been home.  Caught off guard by her answer machine, he'd left a garbled and wholly unsatisfactory message that he'd tormented himself over ever since.  So far he'd heard nothing in return.  

A nudge in the ribs brought him back to the present.  Jesse, dressed in a sports jacket and sky blue shirt, grinned at him 'So which one's Natasha?' the young man said eagerly, a twinkle in his eye.

'Hey' Amanda interrupted from the other side of Mark 'You're with Susan remember!'

'I know' he said innocently, then he winked at Steve 'but there's no harm in looking right?'

Steve grinned 'She's over there Jess' he said 'behind the guy in the toupee and stripped shirt'.

Jesse craned his neck.  Being significantly smaller than his companion, his view was restricted 'I don't see her' he complained then 'Whoah!' he exclaimed

'I guess he's seen her' Steve said dryly to Amanda.

'Whoah!' Jesse said again, eyes wide.

Amanda rolled her eyes.  Ignoring the drooling Jesse and Steve's resultant smirk, she turned instead to Mark 'Is everybody here?' she said.

He frowned tilting his head to get a better view 'I think so' he replied thoughtfully 'there's Maggie Taylor over there and those two kids standing with her are Vicky Harris and Eric Scott.  Natasha's over there on the left and the athletic looking young man with her is Nate Johnson, Schwenck's grad student.  He beamed 'Yes, everyone's here'.

So are we ready?' Amanda asked.  Mark took a deep breath 'We're ready' he replied.

***

Sitting on the end of her bed Tanis replayed the message again.  She must have played it at least twenty times already and yet she was still no closer to making a decision.  Okay so part of the message related to the case and some new scheme of Mark's, but the other?  The other part of the message was a whole lot more confusing.  He hadn't said much, other than he really needed to talk to her privately.  But there was something about taking a risk and him being a fool.  He was a fool?  What did that mean?  And what risks was he talking about?

She sighed, how did everything get so complicated?  A week ago Steve was just Steve, a good cop and a great partner.  Now he was so much more.  But did he feel the same way?  Yesterday she'd been sure that he didn't, but last night's phone message.  It wasn't so much his words, rather something about his tone, something that made her feel that maybe, just maybe he did.

But how could she be sure?  Was it just wishful thinking on her part, nothing more than a decent guy wanting to smooth over an argument with his partner?  Possibly, and yet she wanted to believe that there was more to it than that.  Steve's behaviour at the hospital, she had initially taken as indication of a lack of interest.  He'd closed his eyes, seemingly unwilling to look at her, wanting to block her out.  But maybe she'd over reacted; the guy was suffering from a concussion after all.  Perhaps the closed eyes were indication of nothing more than a dizzy spell? 

 Or perhaps there was more to it than that!  Forcing herself to be positive, Tanis tentatively contemplated the possibility that he had been as floored by the whole thing as she had.    After their almost kiss, the intensity of her emotions, she'd been a wreck, couldn't get away fast enough, desperate to block him out and regain self-control.  Had Steve been the same?  He couldn't run away, his only recourse would have been to shut his eyes!

 Feverishly she turned this possibility over and over in her mind, aware of the faint glimmer of hope that was starting to build.  Her next thought extinguished it – if he did like her, why hadn't he answered her call?  Why had he gotten Mark to fob her off?  Even worse why didn't he want them to work together?  No, she'd got it right the first time, he knew how she felt and he didn't feel the same.  After all, she'd made it perfectly obvious that she liked him – hadn't she?

  .

***

Clearing his throat, Mark stepped in front of the crowd.  Adjusting the buttons on his blazer, he smiled genially at the collection of people before him.

'Ladies and gentlemen' he said, speaking clearly to ensure that he was audible to those at the back 'I'm Doctor Mark Sloan from Community General Hospital and I'd like to thank you all for coming this afternoon, especially at such short notice.  That so many of you have turned up I guess is testament to the high esteem in which you held your colleagues, Professor Peterson, Professor Summers and Dr. Schwenk'.  

He paused, allowing for the nodding of heads and general murmuring that met this re-mark.  As he waited, his keen blue eyes scanned the faces before him.  It didn't escape his attention that Vicky Harris wiped away a tear, whilst Natasha Summers remained resolutely dry eyed.

 'We are here today' he continued 'to remember those colleagues, to celebrate their lives and more specifically their achievements'.  He smiled sadly 'In my work as a doctor I deal with death on a daily basis, and believe me, it never gets any easier.  But when we lose someone, the one thing we still have is our memories'.  He paused before continuing 'With these three men, we have more than that.  As respected academics, they have each left behind them a legacy – knowledge!'  

He looked around the room.  Vicky offered a watery smile, whilst Natasha met his gaze defiantly.  Maggie Taylor's cool grey eyes were thoughtful, appraising.  In contrast, Eric Scott looked miserably at his feet, still pale and withdrawn.   Only Nate Johnson seemed unconcerned, chewing on a stick of gum, he winked cockily when Mark caught his gaze.

 'Now I'm sure I don't have to tell you folks how much these men have achieved in careers cut tragically short' Mark said.  'Professor Peterson was world renowned for his research on organic spectrometry, Doctor Schwenk was one of the leading lights in the study of the Occult and Professor Summers – well what can one say about that young man?'  He smiled 'To be a Professor in your thirties, well that's an achievement in itself.  But then I guess it was always clear that David Summers had potential, it was after all his Masters Thesis that had gotten him on the fast track'.  

Mark let out a breath 'You know ladies and gentlemen, I recently had the opportunity to read that thesis for myself and it blew me away, it really did.  You know the Professors at Yale told me it was perhaps the finest thesis they'd had from a student David's age.'  He smiled 'So you see it was no surprise that David went on to such a distinguished career'.

Stepping aside Mark revealed a small red curtain, operated by a draw string to his left.  'In honour of three such eminent academics' he said 'UCLM in conjunction with Community General Hospital; has decided to dedicate a plaque to their achievements'.  He beckoned to a balding man, with a reddened face 'Dean Nicholson, if I could ask you to do the honours …'

The man shuffled forwards and on Mark's instruction, pulled back the curtain to reveal a large and shinning plaque of black marble with gold engraving.  Joining in the applause Steve leaned over to his father 'D'you think it'll do the trick?' he asked.

            Mark shrugged 'It should' he said.

Turning to Mark, Jesse frowned 'So now what?' he asked.

Mark looked at him gravely 'Now we wait'.

***

In the deserted gloom of the corridor, the single flashlight offered little respite from the inky darkness and yet it was enough.  Oh yes, for the purpose it was to serve it was enough.  For the figure who wielded it, there was but one goal tonight.  Fingers reached for the flawless new plaque that glinted in the moonlight, tracing the engraving as if brail, anxious to be sure.  And then the hissing began, a soft sinister sound, as the aerosol can spilled out its toxic contents, the specially prepared acid eating away at the words left as a legacy.

            And then the corridor was flooded with light, bright, painful light.  And out of the light strode a distinguished looking elderly gentleman, his snow white hair a contrast to the dark blue of his blazer.  

Mark smiled sadly at the figure 'I knew you'd come' he said.

**TO BE CONTINUED …………………………………………**


	38. Chapter 40

'I knew you'd come' Mark said quietly.  'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist destroying the plaque.  After all, how could you let it stand there for posterity, celebrating the career of a man whose success you knew was based on lies?'  He smiled 'You see I know the truth.   I know what happened at Yale all those years ago.  That Masters thesis that got David Summers' career on the fast track, he didn't write it did he?  You did'.

Mark paused, taking a step closer 'You know right from the start I knew there had to be a reason those murders were carried out in the ways that they were'.  He sighed 'Once I'd read the thesis, realised that you were re-enacting the revenge ritual, everything started falling into place.  'Revenge, you know that was the key to this whole thing.  Once I'd gotten that it was easy, a photograph in a year book and a little digging and the answer was right there in front of me'.  

He took another step 'David stole your thesis and passed it off as his own didn't he?  You couldn't believe he'd gotten away with it, but he did.  He was smart, popular, the golden boy.  He knew how to convince people, how to play them, how to get them to do exactly what he wanted' Mark sighed, thinking of poor Vicky Harris, another victim of David's charms.  'When it came to the academic board' he continued 'you couldn't compete could you? You were labelled as the thief whilst David was the injured party.  He was back at the top of the tree socially and academically, whilst you, well you were expelled in disgrace'.

Mark smiled ruefully 'You just couldn't bear the fact that David had gotten everything that should have been yours could you?  Based on your work, he ended up a Professor before his 40th birthday, world renowned in his field and with the opportunity to head up a project the likes of which had never been seen before.  And the irony is that it should have been you'. 

 Mark sighed as he came face to face with his adversary 'You know; he took your thesis, your career, he took your life'.  

He paused, his tone grave 'And so you took his life didn't you, John?'

Not waiting for an answer Mark continued almost to himself 'The others, Peterson, Schwenck, they were incidental weren't they?  You had to kill them to make up the numbers, to make the ritual complete'.

'You know' he said thoughtfully 'looking back I really didn't need the picture in the year book.  The evidence was in front of me the whole time, if only I could have seen it.  The first time we met in the corridor, the books you were carrying they were chemistry and archaeology texts.  And then there was your manner.  I thought you were just having a bad day, but there was more to it than that.  You were bitter weren't you?    You hated those academics, 'prima donnas' I think you called them.  At first I dismissed it as a symptom of job dissatisfaction, but the more I've thought about it, the more it's struck me - you weren't just a disgruntled worker, you were a man driven by hate.  Looking back, it's obvious now that something had to have happened to you, to make you feel so vehemently about academics.

Mark shook his head 'You know I still can't believe I didn't figure it out the second time we met, when I was with Jesse and Amanda.  You remember John, we talked about archaeology.  It was obvious then that you had a thorough knowledge of the subject.  You recognised the artefact I dropped; in fact you knew everything about it.  When I called you on it, you tried to pass it off as information you'd picked up over the years working as a porter. But something struck me about the way you spoke – you had a real passion for your subject and you discussed it in the way an academic would.  You had an understanding and a love of your subject that no lay man would have.  It was obvious you'd been academically trained'.

Mark chuckled softly 'All the time the police were trying to figure whether it was a chemist or an archaeologist who was committing the crimes.  You know, they never thought about someone who worked across both sites, someone who could listen at doors, pick up snatches of conversations, someone who had keys to all the buildings, someone who was expected to be hanging around, who could pass unnoticed.  That's how you knew about a project that was so secret even the police weren't informed.  And that's why Schwenck didn't put up a struggle, he recognised you'.  

Mark shook his head 'I'll bet if we look back you'll have been at every crime scene.  It was you who reported Schwenk's body, after you'd implicated Vicky Harris of course.  And I know you were there the night Steve and Tanis were attacked, I saw you as I was getting into the ambulance'.  He shook his head.  Really it's remarkable, you were under our noses the whole time and nobody noticed you at all!'

John Anderson laughed; the first response he'd made since Mark had stepped out of the shadows.  It wasn't a pleasant sound; this was no laugh of joy, but a mirthless sound filled with bitterness and hate.

'You think it's remarkable that I passed unnoticed?' John said harshly 'well then Doctor Sloan you really don't understand anything, anything at all'.  

Mark frowned, puzzled. 

'I'm a porter Doctor Sloan' John said bitterly 'Amongst the highbrow academic elite I'm nothing; a nobody.  I don't even exist'.  He smiled a twisted smile 'It's what he's reduced me to you see.  When I was booted out of Yale I lost everything, not just my career, but my reputation, my dignity, my honour.  No other university would take me, not with plagiarism on my record.  I became an outcast, isolated from the community I loved, the subject that was my passion.  And I had talent Doctor Sloan, much more than David.  You're right, he was a pretty boy, a smooth talker, but he was no archaeologist, not really'.  

Anderson snorted 'He wouldn't have gotten this far if it hadn't been for Natasha.  She saw how popular he was, knew where his popularity could get her and so she helped him to help herself'.  He shook his head sadly 'Ya know she used to be mine too.  Did you work that one out Doctor Sloan?  Of course she ditched me right after the board, took up with him, but then that's Natasha, always after the main chance'.

'I couldn't go anywhere in academia after they threw me out' he continued angrily 'well who wants to take on a thief and a liar?  Everywhere I tried doors slammed in my face, friends refused to take my calls.  The academic community closed ranks and I was out in the cold'.  He looked at Mark, eyes haunted with pain 'those first few years were terrible.  As far as I was concerned my life was over.  As the years passed I moved from one dead end job to another.  It was a struggle just to get through the day, and all I heard about was David's meteoric rise.  It tortured me Doctor Sloan.   It seemed that the worse my life became, the better things got for him. 

And then one day I couldn't take it any more, I didn't wanna live any more.  I got the pills and the booze I was gonna do it, really I was.  I sat there in the dark, with the bottle of pills in my hand and I thought about my life and I thought about his.  And then it hit me.  It didn't have to be that way.  He'd taken away my life, so why couldn't I take away his?  After all, it's only fair.'

The eyes that looked at Mark were now cold and hard with resolve.  'After that it was easy.  I knew where David was working; I'd been following his career.  I changed my name, got myself hired as a porter, became part of the furniture.  You know I remember the first day I saw him.  He didn't recognise me, but I knew him straight away.  Sure he'd gained a little weight, the odd grey hair, but he was the same smooth talking play boy he'd always been.  He had that poor kid Vicky hanging off his every word, just like the academic board did.  He was so smug, so proud.  He never even looked at me, just handed off a pile of books for me to carry and told me to be quick about it'.

Anderson's eyes flashed angrily 'I could've killed him right there and then.  Almost did too, but I wanted him to know, I wanted everyone to know why he had to die.  And so I recreated the ritual, the ritual that I discovered, the ritual he stole from me.  As soon as Peterson was killed with a blow pipe, I knew David would recognise the ritual, would know it was me.  But there was nothing he could do, not without giving himself away'.  

Anderson smiled 'You know as I strangled him, he begged for his life, actually said he'd come clean, tell everyone the truth.  But it was too late for that; I had to complete the ritual.  I knew the police would figure it out eventually and I wanted to be sure that when they did, everyone would know, would understand.  

He smiled ruefully 'You know you're good Doctor Sloan, too good in fact. You figured it out quicker than I expected, too quick.  You see I haven't quite finished, not yet.   Your son, he proved to be a real inconvenience'.  He frowned irritably 'I still have Natasha to kill and I would have gotten her already, if it hadn't been for your son and that pesky woman he works with.  I had no idea they were gonna turn up there that night.  I had it all planned too.  Dressing up as a mummy was a nice touch I thought.  A little extra just for Natasha – she really believes in it all you see'.  He smirked 'She really would've thought the pharaohs had returned'.

'You know' Mark said suddenly 'I still haven't figured out how you got rid of that mummy costume so quick.  I mean you turned up at the scene barely 5 minutes later'.

Anderson smirked 'You forget Doctor Sloan, I move around this place day in day out.  I keep storage lockers all over the building.  Some people know about, others they don't.  There's one on the second floor landing, it took all of 2 minutes to de-robe, leave the Egyptian costume and arrive in my street clothes.  Sure I was a little breathless, but people just thought I was in shock.'  He chuckled to himself 'Boy, that little girl sure was a wild cat, she clawed me in the neck, drew blood too - lucky this uniform has a high collar'.

'And where are the Egyptian clothes now?'  Mark asked, his eyes suddenly alight 'Did you destroy them?'

Anderson looked aghast 'Destroy them, how could I?  They're authentic garments Doctor Sloan; to destroy them would be sacrilege.  They'll stay in the locker until I can smuggle them home.'

Mark grinned 'I was kinda hoping you'd say that.  You know, that may just be the evidence we need to convict you.  If Tanis drew blood, there's bound to be some of it on the clothes'.

Anderson smiled back, taking a step closer 'No doubt there is Doctor Sloan, but you won't be around to find it.  I've killed three men already, one more isn't gonna make any difference'.

'Oh I don't think you're gonna kill me Mr. Anderson.'  Mark said easily.

'Oh really' he replied menacingly 'And just who is gonna stop me'.

'That would be me' Steve said stepping out of the shadows, gun raised.

He moved forward, reaching for his cuffs 'John Anderson, you're under arrest for the murders of David …'****

He got no further, as Anderson sprayed the aerosol can of acid at his hand.  Yelping in pain Steve dropped the gun.

'Are you okay?' Mark asked in concern.

'I'll live' Steve groused, shaking his hand, desperate to calm the burning sensation where the fiery spray had found its mark.  He'd been lucky, whilst his hand was smarting; the fine spray at that distance had resulted in what felt like little more than a bad nettle sting.  Any closer and it would have been a completely different story.

 'Stay here Dad' he shouted over his shoulder, as he took off after the fleeing man.

As he turned the first corner he could see that Anderson was already beginning to open up a gap.  Steve sighed; this guy was still a pretty good athlete.  Even at his peak he'd be hard pressed, but just coming off a concussion - he really wasn't sure he was gonna catch him.  Already he could feel his muscles aching with the effort, his breathing becoming ragged, his head thumping.  If Anderson reached the stairs he'd be home free.  

In desperation, Steve launched himself forwards, tackling Anderson at the knees.  The two men crashed to the floor, with Steve on top of his opponent.  For a couple of minutes they struggled, each trying to get an opening.  Steve was getting desperate; this guy was strong, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on.  When his chance came he took it thankfully.  Ruefully, he knew it was more luck than anything else that finally enabled him to gain the upper hand. 

With his knee on Anderson's chest he reached for his cuffs with relief.  But Anderson was no slouch and Steve, still weak from the concussion, wasn't completely in control.  Too late he realised his mistake.  A punch to the jaw and he was rocking backwards, seeing stars.  A swift kick to the ribs and he lost his hold on the man completely.

Leaving Steve groaning in his wake, Anderson frantically made a break for it, reaching the end of the corridor whilst the Detective was still struggling to his knees.  As he reached the stairs, the elevator doors opened.

'Freeze police'  barked a familiar voice.

As Anderson turned, Tannis Archer stepped through the doors.  Her left arm was still in a sling, but she used her right arm to good effect.  A gun was pointed at his heart and her hand was remarkably steady.  Behind her five uniformed officers, also armed, pointed their guns at his head.

Breathing hard and moving painfully, Steve came up behind Anderson; nursing ribs he suspected were broken.  He reached for his cuffs, securing the man's hands behind his back.  As the uniforms took Anderson, Steve leant back against the wall, suddenly in need of support.   Tanis stepped towards him.

For a long moment he looked at her.  Wordlessly she looked back. 

'I didn't think you'd come' he said finally, his smile tentative, hopeful.

She smiled back, placing a hand on his arm 'Let's just say I decided it was time I took a risk' she said.  Leaning forwards she kissed him, slowly, gently and then with increasing passion.  Joyously he responded.  When she pulled away, he was grateful for the wall behind his back, aware that his legs wouldn't hold him upright without it.

'We'll talk later?' she said

'Later' he replied eyes sparkling.

As he watched her leading Anderson away, he smiled.  He was still smiling when his father came up behind him five minutes later.

'You okay?' Mark asked

'I am now' he replied

'You know, you look a little dazed' Mark said, peering closely at his son, 'are you sure you're okay?  Did he hit you?  Did you bump your head?'  

Upon gaining no response, he stroked his chin thoughtfully 'You know just to be on the safe side I think I'll get Jesse to check you out at the hospital.' 

'Sure' Steve said still smiling.

'Did you just say sure?' Mark said incredulously 'Oh now I know you've had a bump on the head'.  As he reached up to feel Steve's forehead, his son's strong hand gripped his arm.

'Dad' he said 'I'm fine really. Everything is great, just great'.  He paused and looked at Mark keenly 'You were right'.

Mark beamed 'Well I usually get there in the end, although I have to admit he had me stumped for a while.  You know I wasn't sure he was gonna tell us where the clothes were hidden and …'

'Dad' Steve interrupted 'I'm not talking about the case'.

'You're not?' Mark said in confusion 'Then what ..'.  As his son grinned happily, the penny dropped.  Putting an arm round Steve's shoulders, Mark gave him an affectionate squeeze 'Oh I'm glad son, so very glad'.

Author's note: Well it's finally all over bar the epilogue (which will follow shortly).  Thank you so much for persevering with what turned into a 40 chapter long monster!  I never intended for it to be that long, but once I got going the story kind of took on a life of its own.  I have to say I'm sorry to say goodbye to it!  To all those who've reviewed as we've been going along, thank you once again for your encouragement and support - it has been much appreciated and I wouldn't have enjoyed the writing process half so much without you! 

 This was my first attempt at a 'whodunnit' but I do hope to write more.  As such I would be really grateful for any comments on this final chapter, and more generally on the story as a whole.  Thank you in advance and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.


	39. Epilogue

Jesse sat with his feet up channel hopping.  It wasn't often he got control of the TV remote at the beach house, but today Steve was at the station and Amanda was in the kitchen brewing coffee.  He helped himself to another handful of popcorn from the large bowl in front of him.

'Nice to see you're making yourself at home Jess' Steve drawled as he entered the living room.

Jesse smiled sheepishly 'Case all tied up?' he asked.

Dropping his keys on the table, Steve nodded and sighed wearily 'Yep, forensics came back with a positive i.d. on the blood samples.  Tanis is finishing up the paper work right now'.  

Jesse didn't fail to notice the way Steve's eyes lit up at the mention of her name, but he resisted the urge to tease.  He knew Steve had fallen hard for his partner.  So far they'd been on one date and Steve hadn't said much, but Jesse could tell things were going well – slowly but well.  Whether they continued to go well remained to be seen - Steve wasn't exactly known for his luck with women.  Jesse smiled to himself and crossed his fingers that this time things would work out.

'You know' Steve continued feelingly 'If I never see another Egyptian artefact or curse again, it'll definitely be too soon!'

'Right!' Jesse agreed shifting nervously.

Steve yawned widely 'I just wanna kick back and relax and forget about this whole Egyptology thing'.

'Erm … sure you do' Jesse replied, watching as Steve gingerly lowered himself down on to the sofa and shifted awkwardly, trying to get comfortable.

'Ribs still giving you pain?' Jesse asked concerned 

'You know' he continued looking at Steve more closely, 'may be you should come back into the hospital, we might need to take another look at you'.

Steve pulled a face 'Not a chance.  I have three days off and I'm spending them right here' he patted the couch with a smile and leant back carefully, propping his feet up on the table.

Taking the remote off Jesse, Steve helped himself to a large handful of popcorn. 'I've got my viewing schedule all planned out' he stated firmly 'The Play Offs start tomorrow and I don't intend to miss a minute of it'.

'Hey Steve' Amanda greeted him cheerily, as she entered the room carrying a tray with four cups of coffee.  'I thought I heard your voice.'  

She looked at him suspiciously 'How are you feeling?'

Steve rolled his eyes 'Don't you start' he sighed 'Like I told Jesse, I just need some time to relax and that's exactly what I intend to do'.

'Glad to hear it' she applauded.  Placing the cups in front of the guys she turned to Jesse. 

'Mark not back yet?'

Jesse shook his head.

'Back from where?' Steve asked intrigued 'I thought he wasn't working today'.

'He went to rent a movie' Jesse replied shiftily. 

'Great' Steve replied 'I'm just in the mood for a movie' 

He picked up his steaming mug of coffee, added cream and sugar and settled contentedly back in his seat.  Massaging his ribs with a rueful smile he continued

 'I could do with something to take my mind off everything that's happened in the last few days.  What's he getting?  Comedy? Action? Romance?'

Amanda and Jesse exchanged looks, but neither answered.  Jesse squirmed uncomfortably.  Steve immediately picked up. 

'Okay Jess, spill it'.

'Er …' Jesse hesitated.

'Amanda?' Steve looked at her questioningly

'Oh no' she replied 'Leave me out of this'.

'Okay, okay' Jesse surrendered 'But you're not gonna like it'.

 'Jess?' Steve was getting suspicious now.

'Now Steve' Jesse began, 'you know what you were saying about Egyptian artefacts and curses?' He paused taking a deep breath 'well the thing is that …'

'Oh, don't tell me' Steve groaned as realisation dawned.

Mark entered the room smiling enthusiastically

'I got the last copy' he proclaimed proudly. 

Turning to Steve he held up the tape beaming 'The Mummy Returns!'

Amanda and Jesse burst out laughing, as Steve dropped his head into his hands.

'What did I say?' Mark asked in confusion 'Guys? C'mon!   Guys ….'

The End! 

Nothing much to say really except thanks ever so much for the reviews and 'I'll be back!'


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